The Wrong Sort of Trouble
by Dan's Diction
Summary: For the last millennium the Sorting Hat has used the same tried and true formula for his job, but in the year of 1991, all of that changes. Friendships are challenged, alliances are shifted, and the passive voice is used too much.
1. The Madder Hat

After a few hundred, the Sorting Hat had already stopped counting. So when the year of 1991, rolled around, it was clear that the piece of glorified headwear had had enough. Even Dumbledore had a look of shock when instead the hat stopped his typical out-of-tune singing. For the first time in decades Sorter (His last name being Hat) felt a sense of achievement at finally bettering the whole of Hogwarts by ridding it of one of its more unpleasant traditions. Everyone in the Great Hall now sat in disbelief at what had occurred. "Well?" he demanded; "I'm here for the bloody tradition. Start the sorting."

"Um… Hannah Abbott. I mean Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall said, still phased by the occurrence. The victi… student that put her head into Sorter's cloth body could only be described as yellow given her hair colour…

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Sorter roared, causing the girl to nearly fall in terror; she was a brilliant fit, colours, personality, and everything. Susan Bones was the next specimen. While the first had been clear-cut, the balance of Susan's traits and desires was tricky. She was braver than diligent no doubt, yet yellow was her decidedly favourite colour. "Thunderbird erm, Hufflepuff?" he said but regretted it immediately; his time abroad as an assistant sorter seemed to have rubbed off on him.

His words became monotone as he wrestled through the proper thing to do, barely paying attention. "Boot, Terry: Gryffindor. Brocklehurst, Mandy: Ravenclaw. Brown, Lavendar: Slytherin. Bulstrode, Millicent: Ravenclaw. Finch-Fletchley, Justin: Hufflepuff." It began to dawn on Sorter that he had been only using randomness to sort. His mind was now fully engaged when a Granger, Hermione set him on her head. _She wants to be in Gryffindor quite a lot. The choice is obvious. _"RAVENCLAW!" he shouted. The poor girl flinched but settled in quite nicely with her new housemates.

Neville Longbottom was next, a timid young lad. "GRYFFINDOR!" Sorter said. After him came a Malfoy. "HUFFLEPUFF!" The boy sat at his table with a downcast head. The boy was loyal to a fault but to the wrong house. The hat continued his fun until a Harry Potter stepped up. _You're a perfect Slytherin, _the Hat assured him. 'Not Slytherin' was the reply. Sorter was out of sorts for lack of a better word. He had lost count of who went where and hardly wanted to ruin the balance of power. The boy still continued his mantra, a rather cunning tactic, too cunning in fact. "SLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat chuckled. Life was much better this way.


	2. Into the Den of Snakes

"Don't feel so bad, Harry. The green does match your eyes quite nicely," the girl who he later learned was Lavendar said. Harry shrugged and sat next to her. "I mean look at my hair. This reddish stuff looks awful on green," she added, seeming almost desperate to cheer him up.

"I don't know. It's rather festive to me, like Christmas," he answered to reassure her, but it seemed to have done anything but that as her cheeks turned as red and Rudolf's nose. Gradually he met one after the other next to him. Sally-Anne Perkins seemed amiable enough. Anthony Golstein's questions were prying but well meaning, and Vincent Crabbe seemed like a decent person even if his course manners reminded him a bit too much of Dudley. All the same, Harry could barely stop himself from gazing with longing at the Gryffindor table. Even if Hermione had gotten into Ravenclaw, his recent friend Neville was there, soon to be joined by Ron of course, because every Weasley went to Gryffin- "-PUFF!"

The entire room was at a hush as Ron stumbled in a trance to his new house. "I worked too hard to get into Gryffindor," he mumbled in passing and slumped into a seat at his table… right next to Malfoy, who was to incontinent to notice. The feast passed by with him barely registering the happenings around him until the cacophony of singing interrupted his his reverie. He looked in terror at the voices around him, everyone out of tune and making an almost Ives-like fugue. To his surprise no one looked troubled other than a teacher who could look dour on a sunny day, complete with dark, unkempt hair and a nose that practically frowned. Their eyes met and Harry felt a pang of sympathy through his scar at the horrifying butchery of music. Harry smiled, resting assured in the fact that he had finally met a person who truly understood him.

When all was at a pleasant hush and Dumbledore provided the closing words, Harry followed the Prefect Gemma Farley down to the dungeon that was called Slytherin's. _So this is where they lock us away. Better than a cupboard._ "Don't feel afraid of the Bloody Baron. He's a wonderful deterrent of Peeves," Gemma instructed. As if on cue, a rather grotesque ghost floated up to the staircase they were navigating. His name spoke for itself when it came to descriptions, the only other peculiarity being the chains he wrapped around his neck.

"Sorry I wasn't at the feast. That upstart Nick wants the lions to win. Don't let it happen," he said and gravely ascended the building. The experience was unsettling to Harry, and more for Sally-Anne, who grasped his hand during the whole incident.

"If you're looking for help, I think that Vincent might be a better protector," Harry pointed out as she still held on to him when they continued to walk. She let out an embarrassed eep, undoubtedly at choosing the weakest boy of her year to act as a bodyguard and withdrew her hand. He did notice her walk a bit further away from him, but what confused him was that Vincent was on his other side. "Password," Gemma said to a plain section of wall, which opened of its own accord. The group passed the common room, a winding and dark room that only had the ambient lighting coming from the faint light of the lake. Harry was exhausted by the time he reached the dormitory and slumped into his bed without even changing. His night passed in a fairly fitful manner, but he enjoyed a particularly pleasant dream in which the nice teacher with black hair gave him hug, welcoming him to a house in which he truly belonged.


	3. Travelling with Class

Hermione bolted awake and scrambled for her wand. Her eyes spotted the mechanical clock next to her bed which read 6:03; she had already overslept. She cast a weak Lumos spell to locate her bag, already packed with her textbooks, and slipped out of her dorm. If _Hogwarts: A History _had taught her one thing, navigating the castle could take decades to master. Her brief stay had confirmed that. She took a moment to check her class schedule for the day.

Monday:

Transfiguration MWF 10:00-10:50

DADA MWF 1:00-1:50

Potions: MWF 2:00-2:50

10:00 looked late on paper, but as she had no way of knowing where the classrooms were, she knew she needed to find them and quickly to avoid one of her greatest fears: being late. She had heard that Transfiguration was held in Class 99, somewhere in the South Tower. It seemed easy enough to access from Ravenclaw Tower, yet whether it was her own mistake or just the convoluted layout of the castle, she had to go up three flights, down seven more, through a promising passageway that turned out to be a dead end, and a whole series of other mazes before she arrived at her destination one half hour later. It took only twenty minutes to find Class 3C in the North Tower and the same time to reach the Potions dungeon, which in the end required her to go up five floors and take a slide down to find her destination.

Hermione was physically exhausted yet happy to know that she had mapped out a working route. She rested against a wall by the Potions Dungeon until she could hear the bustling of a large crowd of Slytherins. "What are you doing here?" Harry stopped to ask her.

"Just some exploring. You?" she said, not wanting to reveal how she had been spending her morning.

"Heading over to the Great Hall before History of Magic. Want to join?" She nodded and fell alongside him.

"What else do you have?" Hermione asked. Harry reached into his bag to pull out a list.

"It looks like Charms and Potions," he said.

"It sounds like we'll be seeing each other later today then. By the way, I passed by what looked like the Charms classroom alongside the Transfiguration one. Leave at least fifteen minutes early to get there on time." Harry just smirked. "What?" she demanded.

"It's no surprise that you're a Ravenclaw." The comment reminded her of times she had been called a bookworm, and although she tried to brush it off, the otherwise harmless statement stung, relegating her to a rather passive role for the rest of the conversation. "Take care," Harry said upon their entering the Great Hall, oblivious to her emotions, as he moved to join his housemates for breakfast. Hermione spent her breakfast in silence, pouring over her books for good measure to avoid any unwanted distraction. The thing that hurt her the most was that he was completely right.

By 9:30 she had finished her studying in a much more vacant hall and started up to Transfiguration with the hope she would reach there ten minutes early. Luckily she surpassed estimate and another four earlier, letting her peruse through some more of the textbook as no one other than a tabby cat kept her company. The other Ravenclaws alongside Gryffindors filed in roughly five minutes before class began. Professor McGonagall proved to be an wonderful instructor, complete with keen instructions for everyone; she also showed herself strict by penalising Neville five points when he came in ten minutes late. He sheepishly sat by Hermione, who preferred to focus on the task at hand, and when her match turned into a needle, she was happy to be awarded with two points.

Her lunch passed by uneventfully with more reading till she looked at the time and had to rush to not be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Hufflepuffs. Quirrell was hardly of the same caliber as McGonagall, yet his teaching of the rather simple Lumos charm proved insightful. What seemed like a benign spell had surprising utility in temporarily blinding an assailant. He also noted the importance while in dark areas of the wand's position at the side rather than in front to prevent eyes from adjusting. Last she hurried to Potions with her classmates; they arrived precisely on the dot and lost eight points for the tardiness. Harry waved at her and she sat next to him, the spot being one of the only free seats she saw. Professor Snape began class with a grandiose introduction and then turned to Harry to grill him.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" The first question was a bit obscure, the material covered in a section of the fifth chapter on Draught of Living Death. Her hand shot in the air.

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered to Hermione's disappointment. The second question was easier; the third more so. It was painful enough to hear Harry fumble, but his last statement was turning point: "I think Hermione does though, why don't you try her?" This built on the frustration she had with Harry that had started in the morning. The rest of the class was spent with as few interactions as possible, simply harsh instruction when he nearly ruined the potion. When Snape took rounds inspecting the work near the end of class, Snape paused by theirs.

"A textbook example of a proper potion;" he judged reluctantly; "one point to Slytherin and two to Ravenclaw."

"Thanks there. You're amazing," Harry said once Snape dismissed classes.

"What do you think of Snape?" she asked in a display of civility.

"He's incredible," he answered with a grin.

"Even when he asked you all those questions?" Harry's reply took a bit longer than usual.

"At first I didn't care for them, but he made a good point. I should apply myself if I want to be a proper wizard. Speaking of which, would you like to meet to study sometime this week?" Hermione stood when she realised his implications.

"I can be your classmate, but I don't have to be your friend since last I checked, friends treat each other like walking dictionaries." With that she stormed out of the dungeon to have supper with her true friends: not-walking dictionaries. Just when she thought that things could not be worse she learned that seating assignments for Potions were permanent.


	4. I'm not Scared Just Because I'm Yellow

The idea of never wearing the Gryffindor red had depressed Ron at first. But now he found that if the Hufflepuff colours did anything, they made him look even more Gryffindor. Granted, it was not this that warmed him to his house; it was the easy access to the kitchen. Oddly too, every Hufflepuff proudly called the food served at their table to be the best. Ron just settled with eating. Food was food, and that saying caused him to become easily one of the most popular members in his house. Even Draco could tolerate his presence without plugging his nose, a sign of true friendship Ron had learned.

"Want some sausage?" Ron asked Draco in a magnanimous display of generosity. Draco replied with a muffled groan. Ron took that as an invitation to put his offering on the plate.

"That's it!" Draco exclaimed.

"The sausage?"

"I'm going to be the greatest Hufflepuff in the whole Malfoy family," Draco said. This puzzled Ron since Draco, like him, was the greatest Hufflepuff in his family because he was the only one.

"Let's go for it then!" Ron said and gave an encouraging slap on the back. Draco had been a bit of a git, but Hufflepuffs stick together.

"PUFF POWER!" Draco shouted over all of the voices in the Great Hall. Everyone was looking at them.

"Um yeah, mate. That's the spirit but…" Before Ron could finish, Draco had sprinted out of the hall. Ron looked back and forth between his housemates and the outlier a few times before rising. "Sorry Justin. Catch up with you later," he said and ran after Draco. The pursuit was short since Draco, like most wizards, was unused to physical exercise. "What's gotten into you?" Ron asked.

"I'm going to be the greatest Hufflepuff. By the time I'm through with school, I'll make Helga look like a Gryffindor," Draco said. That still did not answer why Draco had bolted away from his breakfast.

"That's fun. How do you plan on doing that?" A dark smile twisted across Draco's face.

"I'll be the best herbologist, but that's just the start. When I'm grown, no one in Britain won't know of my work-ethic, loyalty, and kindness because if they don't, they'll pay." Ron was glad that Draco had a few years to go.

"Well I should really be going. I've got… stuff to do," Ron said in what was clearly the least most awkward way possible.

"Have a nice day," Draco answered in a way that was probably much more disturbing than intended. Ron returned to his housemates to reassure them that Draco was safe but mainly to finish his breakfast. Pansy seemed the most worried, and Ron took steps to explain that sometimes friends drift apart. Oddly this made her even more distressed. Not seeing much else to do, Ron headed over to Herbology with some of his other friends. When they arrived at the greenhouse, he found Draco having a rather excited conversation with Professor Sprout. On the other side of the room Gryffindors had marshalled together. Ron took his place and class began with little fanfare. The most most astonishing thing was watching the two students in front: Draco and Neville.

The former threw himself into the task and asked surprisingly insightful questions. His success with the bouncing bulb seeds was marginal all the same; every time he moved to snatch one, it leaped away. Neville, on the other hand, was meek yet methodical in his work, coaxing the seeds with gentle nudges and whispers until they willing burrowed into the dirt. Draco had no further luck, but his strategies continued to become more intense and outlandish throughout the class period. Neville even offered some advice that Draco refused on the principle of it being unfair. By the end of class, Gryffindor had earned five points, four by Neville, and Hufflepuff had netted one, two by Draco and minus one by Ron for only paying attention to the front row. Ron was laid back in grabbing his things since there was an hour long break before his next class. When he did exit, he found Draco shoving Neville against the wall.

"What was that you were trying to pull, Longbottom? I'm going to beat you the honest approach, and you can't stop me," Draco growled.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again," Neville whimpered.

"Sorry isn't good enough, Longbottom. We're settling this the proper, honest way. A wizard's duel."

"Okay," Neville said, holding back his tears.

"Great! How does tonight at 8:00 in Class 50 sound?" Draco asked.

"That should work."

"Brilliant. Ron, can you be my second?"

"Um, sure."

Later that day Ron was approached by Harry after Flitwick dismissed class. "I just saw Neville on the way to class. He said that he can't make it to the duel after all because of Astronomy, but I'll fill in since I'm his second." Ron groaned at the news. Draco would not take them well, and at supper, Ron proved himself right when Draco stormed out of the hall.

"Is he always this way at meals?" Susan asked.

"Hopefully not," Ron said and again left. He found Draco brooding as best as Hufflepuffs can in their Common Room.

"I'm fighting Longbottom and no one else," Draco said.

"What about the—"

"Don't talk about that! If Potter's a good enough replacement for Longbottom, you're replacing me." Ron stared at him in blank disbelief. He was tired from a half week of putting up with Draco.

"Fine. Just don't come to me again for help," Ron left the room and rejoined his friends. Later that evening he crept into the unlit classroom after a careful trip to avoid Filch's watchful eyes. Harry stood there, silent.

"Where's Malfoy?" Harry whispered.

"Where's Neville?"

"Fair point. What do we do?" Ron was stumped there and racked his mind for how they went in Adventure Novels.

"Well, there's no fighting with fists."

"Easy enough."

"I guess we bow and then fight until the other can't."

"Sounds good." The two flourished their wands and bowed. The experience unnerved Ron as he had no offensive spell other than a tripping jinx; at least Harry could not be much better.

"Hey Filch, there's a student here!" Harry shouted. "Lumos!" It all happened so quickly, and in an instant Ron could hear Harry dash out of the room. Ron, still blinded from the spell, stumbled after him. His sight gradually restored, and he went into a complete run, jumping down the stairs Harry had taken. Ron could see Filch's lantern in hot pursuit and did not let up despite his lungs burning. They continued until they ran into the end of a corridor. The only door was locked. "Alohomora," Harry incanted and the door opened. The two panted once the door was shut.

"How did you learn that?"

"Unlike you, I strategise for my duels," Harry answered. The reply brought a smile to Ron's face. He had wondered if Harry was a proper Slytherin when he was sorted; now he was certain.

"If you want to talk strategy, how about we have a rematch of the only true strategy game?" Ron said.

"You're on."

"Growl," said someone else. The pair looked to see the other person, a three-headed dog. Ron and Harry ran from the room and separated. Ron could not speak for Harry, but he did not stop running until he was at the foot of his bed.


	5. Interlude: Letters to Gram and Father

Dear Gram,

I've started my time at Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor. They're all nice, but you were right to think I was a squib. Other than Herbology, I'm bad at every subject. In Flying I lost control of my broom. I did horribly in Potions today and the same can be said for most everything. I'll try harder.

For good news, Michael Corner and Seamus Finnigan have been good friends to me. They even stood up to Theodore Nott who is a bit of a bully in our house. Harry also helped by filling in for a duel I couldn't make it to. I was really glad. Thanks for the planner.

Love,

Neville

Dear Father,

Infiltrating Hufflepuff has proved a great success as I endevvor to recruit new allies to our cause. One thing I've noticed is that our Quidditch team is in bad shape. If you could get some Nimbus 2000s for them, I think that it would be a great show of support. Give my regards to mum.

Faithfully yours,

Draco


	6. Trapped like a Bird

Although Harry continued to be as insufferable as ever in class, Hermione could not call him incompetent. His measurements had become precise and delicate over the course of a month. By the time Hermione gave the potion a full stir, he had the next set of ingredients ready poor in. "Professor?" he asked.

"What now, Mr. Potter?"

"You've mentioned the standardised speed for stirring, but what is the recommended depth and position we keep the spoon at for these?"

"The unspoken rule is halfway to the bottom with the spoon's path circling at one half the radius of the centre of the cauldron."

"Thank you, sir." Even Hermione had to admit that Harry's questioning had become increasingly nuanced, and to her embarrassment, she noticed that her spoon technique was off from what Snape had mentioned. When she moved to correct it, the cauldron would have spilled over if Harry was not there to right it.

"Thanks," she whispered. The resulting potion was met with that same quizzical look Snape always gave Harry. For whatever, Hermione felt like giving her classmate another chance. "Harry," she said before he left. "Would you like to walk together to the Halloween feast?" Harry seemed genuinely surprised at her invitation.

"Thanks, but I wasn't really thinking of coming." Hermione's gaze drifted from his eyes to the scar, and the realisation dawned her.

"Oh, I'm sorry for being insensitive," she said.

"Well if you'd feel better, how about we walk there and call it good."

"Sure." The beginning was spent mainly in silence, neither knowing how to restart the conversation.

"It's not as bad as you think," Harry stated.

"Come again?"

"My parents. I mean I miss having a family and all, but I've never known them either. It just sounded nice to walk the castle and think about them. Either that or brood in the potions dungeon." Hermione caught herself laughing.

"How have you found your house?" she asked.

Harry shrugged: "It's alright. The girls of my year act a bit weird, but Anthony Goldstein has been a nice friend. Yours?"

"It's been fun. Tracey Davis and Megan Jones are friendly to a fault, and my studying doesn't stand out too much." They continued talking up to the Great Hall's entrance.

"Have fun," Harry said with a smile.

"Take care," she answered and went to her friends. Despite her enjoying herself with them, Harry kept popping into her mind. He had been fairly positive about his experience, but the words seemed hollow. Most everywhere she saw him outside of meals he had been alone studying, practising wand-work, or flying a school broom. Even when he sat with his housemates, it was near the fringe. Her reverie was shattered when Quirrell burst into the hall. "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you should know." Dumbledore was quick to deal with the ensuing panic by having everyone head to their dorms. Hermione fell into place alongside Tracey but was worried. Harry had specifically said that he would be in the dungeons. She gave the excuse of having forgotten a book at the hall and made for the stairs. What puzzled her was that while she could hear heavy footprints, they came from above rather than below. Curiosity got the better of her, and she raced up the stairs to see the troll in its full height. It stood between her and Harry, who was squaring off against it.

The lumbering beast made slow, deliberate swings with its club that Harry dodged with relative ease. After a particularly clumsy swing, Harry dove between its legs and took off running. Hermione, not wanting to be trampled, did the same. They ran up the stairs with the troll close behind; Harry grabbed her hand and they raced to a corridor. "Alohomora," Harry said when they reached the door. It swung open to a dark room. Harry stopped her from entering: "We stand our ground here. I act as bait, you shove it into there." Hermione nodded and hugged to the corridor's wall. The troll was crashing into the walls with each turn, making it angrier; it bellowed before charging Harry. Hermione looked to see that there was fear in his eyes. In the open hall, Harry had enough room to dodge the cudgel; here there was none.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she said and the club stopped mid arc. The troll stumbled and Harry rolled out of the way as it ran past the entrance.

Harry staggered over to close the door: "We did it." Hermione smiled and released her spell. Harry's face went from relief to terror as the club landed on her legs. The pain was horrible, and her consciousness slowly slipped. She could hear Harry's and and other voices' muffled shouting before everything went black.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was in a school infirmary bed next to Harry, who had a bandage around a foot. "How did that happen?" she asked.

"When the troll passed me, his foot and my foot had an argument. His won." Hermione laughed and then remembered something she had wanted to say.

"Say Harry, sorry for being so cold earlier. Would you like to be friends?"

"I think that would be nice," Harry answered with what Hermione could see was a genuine smile.


	7. Ron Sees Draco Sweep the Floor

It was easy to see that Draco was desperate to outdo Neville. Each Herbology class came with increasingly eccentric tactics to better Neville's down to earth approach. Draco sang to the seeds, hung his pots upside-down with a sticking charm to keep dirt from falling, and no shortage of other approaches. Outside of class, he was mainly alone; something Ron did feel guilty about, yet Justin was a much better friend. It was a week later while Ron was playing a casual game of wizard's chess with Hannah in the Hufflepuff Common Room that Draco spoke to him again.

"How did the duel go?"

"It was odd; we stopped after a three-headed dog interrupted us. Your turn, Hannah."

"Who won?"

"I told you. We were interrupted and decided to have a rematch." Draco was not pleased and went off mumbling about Quidditch. Ron ordered his knight into place and called checkmate. "Thanks for playing. If you'd ever like pointers, I'm your guy," Ron said to Hannah who was looking a bit saddened by how quickly the match had taken. Later that evening he walked to the Great Hall, chess set in hand to complete the duel. He saw Harry already seated at the Ravenclaw table next to a few Eagles and sat opposite him.

"Why here?" Ron asked.

"This is neutral ground. It wouldn't do to sit at one of our tables, and with Neville in Gryffindor, that wouldn't work either."

"Fair enough." Ron set the chessboard on the table and took his pieces from his sack. They shuffled into place. Harry took out his own from an ornate box and let them take their place. Unlike Ron's worn pieces, Harry's looked brand new.

"I borrowed them from my friend Anthony," Harry said before Ron could ask. He gestured to the girls sitting next to them: "You've met Hermione. The other one's Megan Jones. They'll referee the match." Ron shook their hands and then Harry's. Since Harry's set was black, Ron went first with pawn to e4. Harry countered with a pawn to d5, a puzzling move to Ron that gave every chance to be up in material and have superior development. Seeing no reason to not, Ron captured it.

"Pawns to c5 and e5. Capture him," Harry ordered, and in a blatant disobedience of rules, the two pawns surrounded Ron's and caused it to change colours.

"How's that fair!" Ron shouted. Harry turned to Hermione.

"Wizard's chess originates in the 14th century when there were no formalised rule sets. This obscure manoeuvre can be found in a great book from A.D. 1367." Ron looked to Megan for support. She shrugged and mouthed a sorry.

"Could we play by a later ruleset?" Ron asked.

"Sure," Harry replied. Ron was down in every respect, but he took his time to consolidate his kingside position and nearly had caught up in material after some calculated exchanges. In the meantime he established an increasingly better strategy for defeating Harry after observing his moves, which were far from perfect. Then came the blunder when Harry placed his bishop next to Ron's king. As there was no risk of checks, Ron took the hapless piece with his king.

"Excommunication," Harry announced; Ron's bishops turned to black.

"What?" Ron said.

"We're now playing by a 1619 ruleset." Ron immediately looked to Hermione for clarification.

"Following the Council of Trent in 1618, there was an increase in wizard and witch hunts. In an effort to appease the Catholic Church, some rulesets were introduced that made it possible to 'excommunicate' another player if their king's piece captured a bishop." Ron realised his amateurishness in knowing rulesets and surrendered. After requesting a rematch with modern rules, which Ron carefully cited, he beat Harry with a Scholar's Mate. It turned out that Harry had never played a game of chess that didn't involve arbitrary rule exploits. The group shook hands, Harry and Ron exited the hall, both having enjoyed the experience.

"That was good. We should duel that way more often. Friends?" Harry said with his hand extended.

"Sorry;" Ron answered; "you're a nice guy and all, but friendship's about trust to me, and I can't see myself trusting a Slytherin no matter how nice they are. It's nothing personal."

"I understand. Maybe someday I'll convince you otherwise," Harry said and went back towards the dungeons. Ron's return was slower than usual; what he had done made him feel terrible, yet it was the truth. He gave a weak wave to Justin when he had entered the Hufflepuff Common Room and then shuffled to the dormitory.

"Ron! How did it go?" Draco yelled as he ran up to him. Ron saw Draco covered in dirt; as usual, Draco had been practising horticulture in the dorms. If Draco was in Slytherin, Ron would swear that he had a green thumb.

"I won I think."

"What do you mean 'you think?'"

"Well he won the first game and I won the second. Is that good enough?" Draco fumed and returned to his garden patch. The next morning Ron found an apologetic note from Draco and some ginger roots at his bedside. Given that he had not given Harry a chance, Ron figured that he should for Draco at least. More importantly, he had noticed peculiar happenings. The three-headed dog, the troll incident, Snape being a git. Maybe the last one could be written off. Al the same, a confidant would be helpful.

"We need to go for it!" Draco exclaimed the moment Ron relayed some of his findings. Ron needed to get better used to these outbursts.

"We don't even know what's in there," he pointed out.

"If something's guarded by a three-headed cat, it's got to be valuable," Draco replied with a dismissive wave. Ron decided against correcting Draco over the species. "Who do you think is after it?"

"Snape. I saw him limping just after the troll showed up. I doubt that it's a coincidence."

"Brilliant deduction. It's always the most obvious suspect in mysteries." During Hufflepuff tea time, the two quickly devised a strategy for their next course of action: attend the Hufflepuff Gryffindor Quidditch match which Snape was refereeing. Ron learned a few things from the game that he jotted onto a notepad:

1\. Nothing I learned was relevant for the mystery.

2\. Gryffindor is outclassed.

3\. You can become a manager of a team by donating Nimbus 2000s to all the players.

4\. Being friends with said person earns better seatings.


	8. Braving Giant Fears

Neville was scared, but that was nothing new; his doing something about it was. He had lost count of the number of times that he considered turning back to the castle, having always been intimidated by the half-giant. He kept his hands stuck in his pockets to warm himself from the cold air of late fall and sighed once the hut was in sight. When the door did open after a timid knock, Neville just stood there paralysed in fear. "Well what brings yeh here…," Hagrid said in a low grumble

"Longbottom. Neville Longbottom. I had a few questions for you, sir." Hagrid guffawed.

"You can stop with the 'sir' nonsense as long as I can call yeh Neville. Come in!" the half-giant motioned to one of his massive chairs. Soon Neville was nestled in the furniture with a large cup of tea set before him. "Now what was it yeh were wonderin' about?"

"Sorry if I'm rude, but you wouldn't know how a troll came in would you?" Hagrid's eyebrows furrowed.

"Those things are nasty teh deal with. I'd never let one in myself."

"I had heard about the way that Harry and his friend dealt with it. What do you think works?" Hagrid eyed his massive crossbow, looked at Neville and shook his head.

"Stay away from it. They're dangerous unless yeh've got some good experience."

"Well I did that, but isn't it cowardly? I want to be braver."

There's a difference between bravery and brashness, an' don't forget it. That said, if ye're trapped near one, just remember that all creatures have weaknesses, even Fluffy. For trolls, they like nasty smells. I don't know why."

"What do you mean by 'Fluffy?'"

"He's a dog I got from a Greek. He's bein' used to guard…never mind that,"

"But I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Then I'd say yeh should forget it. Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel wouldn't want yeh knowing."

"Okay. Sorry for prying and thanks for the tea. I hope I can visit again," Neville stood up to leave, and Hagrid saw him out. Although Neville was scared, he knew the first place to go: the library to find out more of Nicolas Flamel.


	9. Harry Christmas

Winter was quickly approaching Hogwarts, and with that came Christmas. To most this would be cheery. Slytherin had a different atmosphere. It all started when Harry entered the Slytherin Common Room and was greeted with a kiss from Parvati. "Good afternoon to you too?" Harry said. Parvati just giggled and ran away. The next kiss came from Lavendar. Sally-Anne tried to as well, but Harry was careful to move his head at the last moment and give her a friendly, one-armed hug. This business continued for about a week without Harry able to directly confront any of them.

"It's mistletoe," Hestia finally explained. Harry looked up to the dense floral decor on the ceiling.

"That's hard to miss. What of it?"

"You really don't know what I'm talking about," she said and sighed.

"We're talking about Christmas decorations. Right?"

"When someone is under mistletoe, it's an invitation to kiss them." The words took little time to sink in; there had been more kissing in the common room than usual between people other than him.

"So why is it so infested here?"

"Suppose that a person wanted to tease a boy by charming the room so that a plant sprouts on the ceiling wherever that person stands," Hestia answered with a knowing smile and gave him a peck on the cheek, where coincidentally, another vine of mistletoe was growing overhead. His behaviour the following days was marked with caution, and he found himself looking up at the ceiling even outside his room. With Christmas coming around, most students went off for time with family. Harry said his goodbyes to Neville, who was going to spend time with his Gram. The Hufflepuff table shared a massive group hug and a quick gift exchange, most of which was food-related. His eyes met with Ron; they waved but little else. Malfoy was busy giving out some of the plants he raised, saying his farewells to each of them: the plants, not the receivers in most cases.

Ravenclaw was the warmest of the other houses when it came to this time of year, and Hermione shocked him with a hug. "I'll miss you. Be sure to write about your findings," she said.

"Same. Thanks for not kissing me." Hermione's reply a critical look. "It's a long story," he explained. Megan and some of Hermione's other friends also wished him a happy Christmas. The Slytherin goodbyes were awkward. Even Anthony gave him little regard aside from a 'Happy Christmas,' and the other boys outright ignored him. Lavendar gave him a quick kiss on the cheek along with a longer than usual hug. Of all the other girls, that was as much as they could manage besides Sally-Anne, who captured his lips at the last moment. Harry took it in stride and said that he would miss his _friends _too. At last everyone aside from him in House Slytherin had left for their families. He sank into a chair and saw another vine snaking down from the ceiling. "Diffindo," he said with a casual point of his wand.

Throughout Christmas break, most of it was spent in solitude, but to his surprise, every Weasley was present. "Our parents are spending Christmas in Romania to visit Charlie," Ron explained. Having little else to do, he now played wizard's chess much more regularly each, and learned concepts like tempo and a variety of tactics, yet he never could beat Ron in a normal game despite that. The other Weasleys, all in Gryffindor, were friendly enough even if Fred and George seemed determined to make differentiating them as difficult as possible. The troop ate together, and it was not long before Harry was declared an honorary 'Gryfferin' and Ron a 'Huffledor.'

Harry continued his research into methods of infiltration, something Hermione insisted they do only for academic purposes. He scoured the library for any possible technique that could aid him, but soon was just finding what Hermione had already discovered on the subject. The only thing left for him to do was put his new-found knowledge to the test and get into the restricted section. He cast a disillusionment charm that at this point made him half invisible, a result he could be pleased with as usually he could only manage to make his upper half completely invisible. He was careful in entering the area with every step, preferring to rely on his own skills for silence instead to a spell. One of the first books he saw was marked for wizards and witches who were eighteen or older. Figuring that the spellwork listed might be insightful if there was an age restriction, he grabbed it. "NOT APPROPRIATE!" the book squawked to his terror. He cast a quick silencing charm, placed it back, and melted into the shadows.

When Filch barged, in looking about for the intruder, Harry sent a stunner his way and retreated. It was obvious when he left that he had been horribly underprepared and decided to do nothing else in that place until he had perfected his disillusionment technique. In the meantime snow had fallen over most of Hogwarts, and Harry and others spent much of their time outside throwing enchanted snowballs at each other. The Christmas Eve feast that took place was one in which all houses shared the same table albeit with definite divisions. The professors showed up as well, and to Harry's disappointment, he found Snape to be in a dour mood. Thinking of the most obvious way to cheer him up, Harry casted a charm similar to the one he had experienced on Snape, and soon, as mistletoe sprouted wherever he went, Harry was happy to see McGonagall and a number of other female professors give him chaste kisses. Snape looked no less depressed, but Harry knew that he had done a great service to the man who clearly needed the guidance of a woman in his life.

The next morning had its own surprises in the pile of gifts that arrived at Harry's bedside. A number were filled with candies from most of the girls of Slytherin and even a few in Ravenclaw. Buried under these was also a parcel containing a book entitled: _Book of Potions_ by Zygmunt Budge. Harry greedily scanned the table of contents to find a number of advanced potions listed. At the front page was written, "Happy Christmas, with Love, Hermione." Harry groaned and came to another realisation; he had no gifts for anyone. The girls who had sent him candy clearly liked candy, and with some quick relabelling, Harry had gifts arranged for all of them that went off immediately.

Hermione required more delicacy. He grabbed a sheet of paper and wrote a note:

Dear Hermione,

Thanks for the book. I can't wait to use it, and I'm sorry that I'm not giving you a gift today. I want to hand it to you in person. You've been a good friend, and Hogwarts isn't the same without you. I hope that you and your family are well.

With the friendliest regards,

Harry

Harry wiped off the sweat from his forehead after the reassurance that he had bought himself some time. He next looked to the other unwrapped presents. Although there were many, ones that stood out were a chess set from the Weasleys and an invisibility cloak. Harry draped the new clothing over himself in excitement; he had what he needed.


	10. The Eagle-Eye Perspective Helps

As nice as it was to be back with her parents, Hermione was glad to be getting back to studies. Her return to the Ravenclaw Tower was met with greetings from friends and the hundreds of books that lined the walls. Soon afterwards they headed down to dinner and were happily chatting at the Ravenclaw table. Near the end she spotted a lone Slytherin student exiting the room. Given the black hair and distinct glasses, she could tell easily enough who it was and excused herself to follow. "Harry!" she gave a hug the instant she caught up.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he answered and smiled, yet by this point she could differentiate his forced and natural ones.

"What's wrong?"

"I still need to give you your present." Harry led her to a more secluded hall and withdrew a book entitled _The Parallel Lives of the Hogwarts Founders_ by Lucius Pulsarch from his satchel.

"Thanks, Harry. I was just looking for some light reading. What's the real problem?" Harry's smile faded and he told about his adventures up to Christmas. Then came the story of the invisible cloak. He was back again at the restricted section when he wandered into a room with a mirror that he saw read backwards as 'desire.' What he saw was a reflection of himself surrounded by friends in his house, Gryffindor.

"Slytherin's a better house than people make it off to be, but Ron was right. Friends require trust; he can't trust me, and I can't trust them;" he explained; "the boys all dislike me, and the girls only seem interested in kissing. I don't know what the Sorting Hat was thinking." Hermione did the only logical thing and shoved him against the wall.

"You're not mentioning the fact that you broke the rules in a harmless situation and you're talking about not fitting in Slytherin. I'll forgive you for having a hard time making friends because I know you're not good at it, but don't ever say that you don't belong there." Harry looked stunned at her impassioned declaration.

"I suppose that you have a point. Sorry for bothering you with that." The two wished each other a good night and saw each other again at Potions the following day as classes resumed. Harry still seemed hurt, but her approach worked for the better in her opinion. At her insistence, most of their time together was now spent by studying and on brief occasions trying to investigate Quirrell's habits for any eccentricities (A purely academic pursuit of course). The man was looking weaker than he had at the start of the year, yet how that could figure into why he might try breaking into the area still eluded them.

"You look a bit pale, Professor. Maybe you should visit the infirmary," Hermione once said after a Defence against the Dark Arts class. Quirrell's stammer barely afforded a coherent response other than it being the winter weather getting to him. The next phase, developed by Harry, was to investigate the peculiar turban Quirrell always wore. In other words, recruit two interchangeable Weasleys to do the job at the low price of two knuts per prank. The jokes ranged from simple tripping hexes to elaborate but compact rune configurations that, when put into contact with the turban, caused it to thrash about, but no matter what they tried, the headwear seemed glued to the man's head. The commissioned pranks stopped after a few tries, as they wanted to avoid making Quirrell suspicious; the twins almost refunded them for an incomplete job, yet Hermione demanded that they keep the money. Harry had at first objected, claiming that payment was a mere formality; however, the two did find out one thing. Even as Quirrell looked even more disarrayed from the attacks, he refused to see Madam Pomfrey about his condition. It was with this in mind that they visited the headmaster's office.

"Chocolate cranberry," Harry said. The door opened to reveal Dumbledore emptying a bowl of sweets into his mouth.

"Harry and Hermione, what brings you here today?" he asked after a gulp.

"We were concerned about Professor Quirrell's health, sir," Hermione said.

"Sorry for not being able to offer some candy. I just ran out. Ah yes, Quirrell. He has looked better." Instead of looking at them, Dumbledore stared upwards in a rather pensive mood.

"Well we've tried suggesting that he see Madam Pomfrey, but he's quite firm about not. Professor?" Harry was at a loss as to what to do since their headmaster still remained in his reverie.

"Sorry my boy, I was considering whether to get chocolate or lemon drops. Oh never mind. Lemon is always better. Now concerning Quirinius, I think one of the best ways to help him might be to see who is antagonising him and make them stop that. After all, desperation can lead to extreme measures," Dumbledore quite suddenly had lost his senile charm and had the look of a headmaster they could both fear and respect. "Now if that's all, I have some important business to attend to. Where did I get those lemon drops?" he said and the image was lost.


	11. How to Get Rid of Your Dragon

Ron was surprised to be approached by Neville of all people after Double Potions class. Not that they were on bad terms or anything; Neville just seemed scared of his own shadow let alone talk to a person of a different house. "What's up?" Ron asked.

"I've been finding out some stuff from Hagrid, and I'll be visiting this evening and think that having someone back me up might be good," Neville. Ron found the whole idea of backing up somebody with obviously no bad intentions odd; Hagrid was basically a teddy bear.

"Sure I guess, but why not say Seamus?" Neville gave rather conspiratorial look.

"You and Malfoy have been following Snape pretty oddly these days. You know somethings going on," Neville whispered.

"What's that got to do with Hagrid?" Ron asked, his suspicions aroused.

"Somebody has to take care of Fluffy." Ron put two and two together.

"Hurry. Let's go now." It was four in the afternoon, and if they went any later, it would interfere with supper.

"Wait! Why now?" Neville jogged to catch up to Ron, who had already started in that direction.

"It's urgent." Supper was urgent. Getting between a Hufflepuff and a meal was a death wish. Unfortunately Hagrid was one to give surprises in the form of a Norwegian Ridgeback. Add to that the fact that they being spied on as Ron figured out a way to remove an illegal creature from the school. Hagrid was a nice person, but the main reason was that Charlie would appreciate a late Christmas present. Once he saw the answer staring at him in the face, Ron made a hasty run back to the castle just in time for the meal to commence. Draco came in a bit later, and Neville was last, probably barely getting time to take much more than a handful of bites before the house elves cleared away the dishes.

Ron took his time after the meal to write a note to Charlie and ask when he would like to pick it up. Not long after that came Hagrid's compliance when 'Nobert' started a few fires in the woods. The arrangements were simple: bring the dragon to the astronomy tower on Thursday night in two weeks at 9:00, which happened to be the only workable time for Charlie's coworkers. Not any sooner had he made the plans that he saw a few minor issues. The first was the fact that Astronomy class took place then. The second was that the said class was for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff. The last was that someone had been following him. In dealing with the final problem, Ron acted completely normal and proceeded down from the owlery to the Hufflepuff Common Room until he rounded a corner. "Stupefy!" he chanted. The body that dropped in front of him was not Snape but Draco. This fact puzzled Ron; a quick 'rennervate' brought Draco back to his feet. "So, what's this about, mate?" Ron said in a tone that made him sound oblivious to the fact that he had just stunned his friend.

"What do you mean 'what's this all about?' Since when do you fraternise with enemy?"

"Enemy?"

"Neville is my arch-nemesis." Ron had to muster willpower to not face-palm. It was then that he made his sudden realisation; to be able to attend the other class section of Astronomy, he just needed to not be able attend his own.

"If you have an issue with that, I challenge you to a duel at 7:00 next Wednesday at a staircase in the South tower." The following days were built with anticipation; he owled Charlie again to tell him that his associates would need to be stealthy in their approach. Finally came the time of the duel. Ron marched to it in an air of confidence, wand in one hand, cushion in the other. He set the pillow a floor beneath him and ascended to where Draco waited.

"I don't know why you decided to go turncoat, Weasley, but let's make this quick. I don't want to be late for class. Ron just grinned and bowed. Draco cast a stunner that Ron dodged by jumping off the staircase. He had already requested another staircase that he had placed the cushion on to move over to a path that would stop his descent, sixty feet below. Since there was only a bit more than a second to react, he just calmly awaited his fate by screaming. He met the cushion with a crunch: mission success.

He was felt lucky to learn that aside from minor bruising, the only fracture was in his leg, which had broken much of the fall. That did not help him from escaping the ire of Madam Pomfrey "The idiocy of children these days. When I was at school, only one child died from the staircases." In an instant he was excused from Astronomy as he waited for the bone to re-heal. Many of his friends, including Justin, Wayne, and Susan visited him before class, but Draco stayed by his side, the picture of remorse after their altercation.

"Hey Ron?" Draco said.

"Yeah, mate?"

"I was being stupid. Aside from you, the only other good friend I have is Pansy, and I nearly let my spats with Neville ruin it. You have a right to choose your own friends. Sorry." Ron considered their time together; aside from Quidditch, the two could not be more different. Even Harry for all his underhandedness was easier to get along with. Still, Draco could be surprisingly endearing when it came to loyalty.

"That's okay. And you know what, that was a fun duel. We should do that more often." The two laughed and Draco returned to his dorm. Ron closed his eyes and fell asleep with the reassurance that everything would be okay during the delivery. The following night was odd by several counts when Draco and Ron sat in on the Gryffindor Ravenclaw Astronomy class. Sinistra was kind enough to direct them to some extra seats. Ron gave a glance around him. The Ravenclaw ace Hermione was seated as always in the front row; if she was as good as the rumours said, then she had never even nodded off in Astronomy. Neville was in a centre row and looked as nervous as a rabbit. Ron could only hope that he did not draw too much attention until they started the plan.

Though Ron did his best to stay awake through the class, the stars did a wonderful job of reminding of what time it was as they switched to the practical section of using their telescopes. His watch had struck 9:00 and he looked for a sign of the team approaching. In the faint light of the moon he could at last see three cloaked figures approaching on brooms. "Professor Sinistra, are there supposes to be people flying out this late?" Hermione interjected. Ron knew they needed their diversion and quickly; he gave two loud coughs.

"What's in Merlin name is that?" Neville cried from the other side of the tower.

"Death Eaters!" Ron shouted and began to launch a series of stunners out the windows. Draco followed suit and then the whole class.

"They've gotten inside!" Neville yelled. Ron proceeded to turn around and randomly cast stunners in every direction. In an instant the room was a light show of weak attack spells that did not die down until most of the students were on the ground from crossfire. At the end of the carnage, Ron, Neville, and Draco had all earned detentions for their disorderly conduct, but the dragon was in better hands. They hoped.


	12. The Game is on

Sinistra was furious about the disruption of class and wanted nothing to do with the resulting detention. This role was delegated to Hagrid, who Neville had grown rather fond of over the past few weeks, but the events in the Forbidden Forest had left Neville traumatised. Still, he and Malfoy had managed to set aside their differences in the face of danger when they had to depend on centaurs for rescue. That said, the horse-men would only talk about the brightness of Mars without explaining what that meant even when Neville apologised for not paying enough attention in Astronomy due to other happenings.

When the three saw the cloaked figure and learned how you-know-who might be involved, they came to the conclusion that Snape should never have the opportunity to break in after they had run away screaming at the top of their lungs. Classes seemed to be a non-issue aside from attendance even when exams loomed closer. Neville worried about them, yet he had come to the realisation that he worried about everything, even the things he forgot. They were concerned about Snape's whereabouts, but Dumbledore's presence provided a enough of a feeling of security that they were able to manage most of their tests with relative ease. The hardest was Transfiguration, as McGonagall's standards were high regardless of the student; Hermione came in with an unusual air of confidence that proved to be well founded by her matchbox. Potions proved difficult as well, but the trio's patrols following Snape had ensured that they spent a fair amount of time in the potions dungeon practising for lack of a better alibi.

At lunchtime Neville sat by Terry yet had a hard time engaging in the playful banter of his housemates after a stressful finals week. His focus was on the table where the professors sat, and what stood out was a lack of Dumbledore or Snape seated there. "Professor McGonagall," he said when she had risen from her seat. "Could you tell me where I could speak with Professor Dumbledore?" Neville asked in the most collected tone he could muster.

"He has important affairs to deal with right now, but I don't see how this concerns you, Mr. Longbottom."

"Sorry, I had an important question for him."

"He just left for the Ministry of Magic. He should be back by tomorrow." Neville considered divulging more information yet stopped himself. They were already not very well approved of after the Astronomy debacle, and he did not want to burden her and the house any further. Probably the deeper truth was that Neville found McGonagall terrifying when angered.

"Thank you, Professor," he said and ran to rendezvous with his friends. The three raced to the entrance to the corridor, yet stopped when they saw Harry and Hermione guarding it as well. There was an awkward moment in which both groups looked at each other then turned around in opposite directions.

"I'll bet Potter is in league with Snape," Malfoy said.

"Well there's no doubt that they'll be around that area until the night," Ron pointed out. "If we wait until then to come, we should have a shot at stopping him." With agreement from everyone, they planned to wait till nightfall and meet again.


	13. Three Heads are Better than One

Harry's suggestion to bug the corridor entrance was perhaps their best idea since tailing Quirrell was almost impossible. The teacher seemed to have a pair of eyes on the back of his head. The wand-work and incantation was somewhat complex even for Hermione, yet the result was a spell that required practically no concentration or maximum distance to maintain. They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways to bed. Hermione was just having a pleasant dream about all the professors praising her performance until she awoke with a start when her tripwire charm alerted her through a surge of pain, an unpleasant albeit effective method. As her robes were neatly set on the side of the bed for this occasion, she was soon descending Ravenclaw Tower.

Though the castle was dark at this time of night, she did not dare to take any form of light with her. In her stumbling she reached the corridor, tired from needless bumping into walls, tripping down stairs, and one too many run-ins with Peeves. Harry met her at roughly the same time, and the pair ventured to the door. "Portaberto," Hermione flicked her wand and the door opened, some smoke trailing out of the keyhole. Harry looked puzzled at her straightforward approach. "I don't write an essay about everything before doing something," she noted. He shrugged, and they began their preparations. First was the disillusionment spell then the deodorant charm, and last came a silencing spell.

The cerberus was awake and vigilant, but their careful movement caused no alarm in their approach towards the open trapdoor. "Open sesame!" came a shout and the door shattered. Harry saw Neville, Ron, and Malfoy burst in with their wands trained on the creature. "Bombarda! Bombarda! Bombarda!" Malfoy said while Ron cast an array of stunners. The dog roared and lunged at the three. Harry and Hermione cowered by a wall, but to their astonishment the beast slumped midway, and the shrill sound of a recorder could be heard over the animal's snores.

"How did you know to do that?" Ron said in amazement at Neville's effective though bad playing.

"Hagrid told me," Neville answered and returned immediately to his butchered rendition of "Rule Britannia" before the dog stirred. Hermione seized Harry's hand and doubled to the exit in a desperate bid to escape the music. They landed in a rough heap in a bed of plants; not long afterwards, the others dropped down as well.

"You guys! I knew they were up to something," Malfoy sputtered. Hermione saw to her frustration that their spells had been disrupted. "Wait, I know this plant."

"It's devil's snare," Neville interjected. "They thrive in these cold, damp environments." Hermione felt the plant take hold of her tighter and tighter.

"We need some fire," she cried, knowing it was hopeless without some proper matches. As if on cue Harry cast incendio; the plants retreated, yet the fire still blazed.

"Aguamenti," she said before the flames got any closer. The result was that everyone's uniform, cut and torn from the vines, was now both singed and drenched. Perfect. When they stumbled out much worse for wear, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry and backed him against a wall.

"So now what's the idea, Potter? Trying to burn us alive?" Harry's face looked fearful, but Hermione could see his right hand inching to where he stored his wand.

"Let's hold on a bit," Ron said and got between them. "I think there's a misunderstanding here. Granger's with him and she saved us, and I don't think Harry'd do that on purpose. Why don't we work together as we need to?" Harry was quick enough to agree, and Malfoy was reluctant, but he did consent. Their next challenge was another locked door that would not respond to alohomora. Malfoy launched a blasting curse at door, which splintered. While they walked through, Hermione could not help but look at the hundreds of flying keys, surrounding the remains of the door, and wonder what they were there for. Next was a chess set, that they learned required them to replace some of the black pieces to move on. Malfoy took king's pawn, Neville the queen, Ron a knight, Harry a bishop, and Hermione got a rook.

"F3." Harry ordered to white. To everyone's surprise, the pawn moved forwards. Ron took the initiative and ordered his pawn to e5. Harry ordered white to g4, and Neville went to h4 in a checkmate. Again Hermione wondered at these bizarre obstacles. The last that could finally qualify as a puzzle looked particularly interesting as Hermione poured over the riddle. Her hopes of a fun challenge were dashed when Malfoy rushed for the potions and began downing them one after the other on account of thirst. Harry slipped by and took one vial before Malfoy could reach it. "This seems about right," he said and drank it. Malfoy looked quite pale and dropped to the floor, yet Harry had already walked through the wall of flames.


	14. Seeing in Double

Harry sauntered towards the flames as if he was taking a morning walk, but the truth was that he was scared more than anything else. All he had done was glance at the clue and made a guess based more on his intuition than anything else. To his shock, he passed through completely unharmed and saw the villain in question: Quirrell. "I knew it was you!" the two exclaimed in tandem. There was a pause that stretched a few seconds longer than either would have preferred.

"Uh, you can go," Harry said.

"My lord gave me a few simple, easy options for removing you as a stumbling block, none of which worked. I pointed out the gift you had for flying to Albus, yet he did nothing to put you on a Quidditch team." Harry was failing to see how this related to the evil plan, but Quirrell continued his rambling. "…So I got to thinking after those attempts, what difference does it make if he's playing a sport with so many risk factors? I can just take the stone myself. Here I think that a troll would be a distraction, but you head it off right where I tried to get in. If Snape wasn't there to stop me, I might have killed you right then and there. That then made me have to study the anti-anti-alohomora charm-charm get in again. Do you know how obscure that is? Then came all those pranks when I had just…" Harry's ability to focus was severely hampered by his scar burning with pain. "… And I realised. You were never a mere baby with a mere accidental protection that killed me. You've been pulling the strings now all this time, but I'll stop you. Avada Kedabra!" Harry ducked under the curse. "No you fool. We need the stone!" another voice said. Harry's body moved on its own and he tackled the wizard. He had no idea what he was doing in the grappling match, but his wand ability could not match Quirrell's. Quirrell stumbled from the shock of Harry raining down punches at his face. Oddly Harry's plan seemed to work. The Quirrell's face was burning now much like the pain of Harry's scar, but he did not argue with the results. Then the scar's intensity became unbearable, and Harry collapsed over his fallen enemy.

Harry woke up exhausted from the events. He looked around, seeing the familiar sights of the infirmary, and met the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore. "Good afternoon, Harry."

"So what happened to my friends? And what about Quirrell?" Harry said.

"Your friends are quite well even after Mr. Malfoy's potion episode, Hermione was able to help with some of it so that he was stable by the time I had arrived. Concerning Professor Quirrell, it seems that he died, an unfortunate matter, but there was no need for the school to pay for the cremation fee at least. I have to say, my boy, you've impressed me how quickly you solved the mystery of the stone, Flamel, and the mirror," Dumbledore said with a definite air of pride. Harry decided to just nod at things he had never heard of. He nearly asked about the weird bit at the end but elected to not. Having a trump card of punching people on fire was something best kept secret. His eyes drifted over to the mountain of candies, most from Slytherin girls undoubtedly.

"Would you care for some, Headmaster?" Dumbledore smiled and grabbed a few chocolates. Harry thought back to his first day at Hogwarts; he had never expected to interact with so many different types of people. His house was odd, the school was dangerous, and countless other downsides, but Harry could count this year as the best year of his life. "Professor Dumbledore, could I say a few words at the closing feast?" Dumbledore nodded and left. Hermione's visit was brief yet strongly punctuated by a hug. Little of it could be spent with his doing the talking since she spent most of it berating him for his reckless behaviour. Harry tried pacifying her with the offer of some candy.

"Hey Harry?" Hermione said after swallowing an every flavour bean. "Thanks for coming out in one piece."

"Well Hermione… Thanks for being my best friend," he answered with a hug. Harry knew that the months ahead would feel empty without her. In the days before the feast after he was discharged, Harry made a point to come to Snape's office.

The ending feast was one full of anticipation; a Ravenclaw blue banner was draped behind the high table, and the food was extraordinary. Dumbledore walked to the podium to give the announcement after the typical nonsensical introduction they had learned to appreciate. "Now there is the need to award the House Cup. In fourth place is Hufflepuff at 367 points. Gryffindor is in third with 412 points. Slytherin is in second with 452 points, and first place goes to Ravenclaw with 476." The Ravenclaw students cheered as much as most bookish students do while there was some polite applause from the other three houses. "That said," Dumbledore mentioned as the noise died. "There are a few additional points to award. First, to Mr. Longbottom for his use of music to tame the wild beast in the midst of chaos, twenty points." The Gryffindors gave him some congratulatory pats on the back even though it did not change their position. "To Mister Malfoy, who drove hard and quickly through each problem even when that perhaps was not the most judicious idea, fifteen points." The Hufflepuffs gave Malfoy a warm group hug. "To Miss Granger, for her quick thinking in the heat of the moment and for looking after a student who isn't even a housemate, fifty points." The Ravenclaws all gave her toasts. "To Mister Potter who used his wits and bravery to work past his difficulties, seventy points." All the girls of Slytherin sighed and even some of the boys congratulated him. "And last to Mister Ron Weasley, for his diplomatic approach to bringing together and working with students of all types of backgrounds and houses, one hundred points." 'Ron, Ron' chanted the Hufflepuffs as they had him crowd-surf with wingardium leviosas. "And so I give the new ranking Gryffindor with 432, Hufflepuff at 482, Slytherin 522, and Ravenclaw wins with 526!"

The Ravenclaw students cheered again, and the Hufflepuffs looked rather disappointed, something Harry found odd, it would have been unlikely that a house that far behind would end up in first place in any circumstance. "And now I would like to welcome Mister Harry Potter to the podium." Harry came up to the lectern with a proper round of pats on the back and applause. He had prepared what he would say at least a dozen times, but the view of the entire Great Hall was daunting. Then his gaze rested on Hermione, who gave him an encouraging smile.

"Well I guess that I don't have to introduce myself. I think I should start by congratulating Ravenclaw. They've earned it, but I'd also say that every other house should feel proud of the work they've done." He was answered with a generous ovation. "I don't know about some of you, but I can honestly say this has been the best year of my life. I've made good friends, learned from great teachers, and am thankful for that. In particular I'd like to thank a wonderful mentor and person I can think of as a personal friend, Professor Snape." Snape scowled as he stood to the light applause at this comment, yet Harry knew how much Snape appreciated that. His hero had a crusty exterior yet a heart of gold. "I wanted to say all of that to let you know that it's not out of any spite that I won't be attending Hogwarts next year. I'll treasure the friendships that I've been able to make and think quite fondly of this castle. I've already told Professor Snape, but aside from him, this is the first time I've announced this. Thank you," Harry walked back to his seat to be greeted with teary-eyed hugs from most of the girls of his house and even a few handshakes from some of the fellows. The words that had flowed so easily once he started now felt difficult as he felt his eyes begin to well up with tears.

The next day was awkward getting on the train; Harry declined most offers to sit with his housemates, instead looking for the compartment where a bushy-haired friend would be. He found her alone, surrounded by books. "May I join?" he practically whispered. She looked up from her book and glared. Harry took that as a good enough yes and sat opposite her. "So I guess I owe you an apology," he said after she refused to look away from her book. No response. "Okay. I do owe you one. I'm sorry. I meant to tell you but… well I don't have an excuse, and if you don't talk to me again, I guess I deserve it." Harry's eyes looked at the floor in dread, but of all the things he had expected, she did nothing, not the violent response after Christmas or the hug after the time in the corridor. Harry then peeked to see Hermione; she was crying.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked between sobs.

"Um, well I wanted to not hurt your feelings," the answer had little effect. "And well, I was also being stupid. If it makes you feel better, I'll never forget you." Harry moved over to the seat next to her and gave a side hug that made the situation even more awkward.

"Yes you will. We both will after finding new friends," she said after wiping away the tears.

"That will never happen," Harry declared. "I can't make friends, or well… I mean…" To his surprise she started laughing.

"Harry, you can be such an idiot." Their chat was still guarded as both were rather depressed, but they decided on some agreements: owling each other at least once a week and visiting at least once each summer. Harry said his goodbyes to others that he had spent his time with at school and wished them all good luck. Harry knew that he would miss Hogwarts, yet it was a dangerous place, and he was actually looking forward to his time with the Dursleys.


	15. Epilogue and Afterward

_Curse Harry Potter_ _he set that all up to make Hufflepuff look bad and then go away without any way for me to get him. _Draco thought in an absolute rage. He beat down on the dough with even more force. Luckily for him, baking was a wonderful outlet for his anger, and soon he was merrily kneading the dough. Magic could automate a lot of this process, but since he could not use magic outside of school, Draco was more than content to resort to a more down to earth method. _Today the Malfoy Bakery, tomorrow the Malfoy World Charity Centre. _He let out an evil cackle as he added more sugar.

Afterward:

Thanks for sticking around with this story thus so far. My apologies if this has felt too by the book in relying on extent narrative threads instead of original ones, but I found that the butterfly effect was not large enough to merit too large of plot deviations (And I'm fairly lazy). The story will continue in at most a week's time. Until then, I intend to do some grammatical and general cleanup of the previous chapters to ensure that they are up to my standards. The next book should have some fun action, amusing interactions, and other things which I've tried to incorporate into the story.

For those wondering, I've tried to stay close to Rowling's depictions of the main cast, with Draco and Harry being the main exceptions. In the case of Malfoy, I found him to generally be a boring cut-out student rival than a substantial character, and although I'll admit that my Malfoy's actions are odd, I think that the result is a character with obvious character flaws but a few strengths that makes him a much more enjoyable personality to observe.

Of the three characters in the main cast, Harry is probably the least interesting. Unlike Ron and Hermione, who have easy to identify weaknesses, Harry only has strengths such as Quidditch. Add to that his lack of very tangible motivations, and he falls flat as a protagonist in my opinion. It's not to say that he's bad (Harry is not an overpowered Garry Stu for instance), but he's much blander. My attempt to work in an organic flaw came as his incompetence in making friends. Harry and crew in the book are basically thrown together, and after the troll episode, their status as a trio in the first book is uncontested. By removing this trio, it made a perfect conflict for Harry to try to work around. Again, it's not perfect, but I like this Harry.

Thanks again and stay tuned.


	16. The Error of Slytherin: Prologue

Green was the easiest way to describe Malfoy Manor after Master Draco returned. It had started with rather simple additions. 'Just a plot of gillyweed in the pond,' he would say or, 'How about a hedge of spiky shrubs along the wall?' Next thing Dobby knew a series of terraces had been added, a rock garden was put in the courtyard, and Draco was running about with a levitating wheelbarrow in hand and earmuffs on to deliver a new crop of mandrake roots to the local wizarding farmer's market. Master Lucius took it all in stride, calling it just another phase, which was perhaps true. The year before Draco had been an aspiring Quidditch professional, taking to even flying a broom indoors. Prior to that point he had even gone as far as to shave his head to look like his hero.

"It's just an obsession of Master Draco," Dobby said during his cleaning rounds.

"Hi Dobby. Are you okay?" Draco said from behind him in a terrifying display of concern.

"Dobby is quite well, Master Draco. How can Dobby serve?"

"Well I was hoping to know if I could be of any help to you." Dobby screeched in terror.

"What did they do to you, Master Draco!" His master's expression darkened, and his hand, grasping a fairy cake, proceeded to crush it.

"You mean what did he do. Don't you?" Dobby gave a meek nod. "Harry Potter, my greatest enemy, made a fool of me at Hogwarts, and after that backstabber caused Hufflepuff to lose the house cup, he left Hogwarts. I need revenge, but he's taken that away from me." Muttering about needing to pick a bouquet of flowers for his mother, Draco stormed away. Dobby shuddered. For this insanity to end, he had to do one thing: make Harry Potter return to Hogwarts at all costs.


	17. Summers can be Good Relatively Speaking

Harry did not expect his relatives to like him any more given his magical associates, but if Slytherin had taught him anything, it was how to neutralise an enemy. Just because he was forbidden to use magic in front of them had nothing to stop him from employing magical devices, and a few Weasley brand prank items now made his arsenal of pocket weapons. He shocked himself by smiling as he reached the car. "Thanks for picking me up, Uncle Vernon," he said much to his uncle's surprise.

"Just get those things in the boot," the man grumbled. Throughout the drive, Harry made a point to ask about the drilling business and learned more than he could have ever wanted. Vernon was merrily chatting about the advantages of steel compared to brass for bits when he suddenly stopped, horrified at his enjoyment of the conversation. When they pulled up, it seemed that the house had remained practically unchanged since Harry's last stay. Uncle Vernon was quick to stuff practically all of Harry's wizarding supplies under the cupboard.

"I wouldn't do that," said Harry, trying to be helpful. Vernon ignored him and began to lock the door. "There are some things I have that can't just be left alone."

"I don't want any of that stuff out loose in this house," Vernon insisted and bolted the cupboard's entrance shut.

"But—"

"I don't want to hear another word out of you about it. Now get into your room and we'll call you in after dinner." Vernon's gruff look would have been much more intimidating had he not been panting from the exertion. Harry conceded and went upstairs to his cluttered room; first he set Hedwig's cage near the window. His cauldron, wand, broom, and textbooks were all inaccessible, but he was happy to reach out of his suitcase, filled with his more conventional belongings, and find book covered by a bland cover protector to conceal the actual identity of his prized possession, a gift from Hermione. Harry tore off the cover, revealing the title, _The Book of Potions. _He thumbed through the pages to find anything that looked interesting all the while thinking of how much he missed his cauldron. It was probably overflowing by this point. "Flesh-Eating Slug Repellant, Floo Powder, Fly Repelling Spray," he mumbled. Aunt Petunia's call startled him into action. The book slammed shut and he pattered down the stairs to start making dinner.

Petunia put a recipe card in front of him but otherwise acted as if he was not around. "Aunt Petunia," he said while he got out the ingredients. "I was trying to tell Uncle about an issue with some of my supplies being stored in the cupboard." She twirled around in a start.

"I don't want to hear another word about that."

"Duly noted," he replied and returned to dinner preparations. Harry was cleaning dishes during his relatives' mealtime when a small explosion caused the cupboard door to rattle. Smoke seeped from the cracks, letting out a rancid odour.

"What was that, freak?" Vernon demanded and lumbered towards him.

"I'm sorry. I tried telling you. The supplies can act that way if they aren't kept in a controlled environment." Vernon looked as if he would beat him yet seemed to have thought better.

"Just get all of that stuff out of there this instant and up into your room. I don't want to hear, smell, or see anything of them aside from there. Understand?" Harry gave a curt nod and scurried to deliver them upstairs. Although he lost any chance to enjoy the meal he had prepared, that would have happened with or without the explosion, and now he had a new set of toys to play with. Harry began to wipe the residue off his cauldron in expectation of tomorrow.

Summer gradually settled into a simple routine. He would study and brew potions, oftentimes getting interrupted by some chore. He would do said task and then return to his room. From time to time Dudley would try to beat him, but Harry's months of training as a Slytherin made him a difficult target for someone as inept as his cousin. Even with this patience, Harry preferred to make himself feared whenever he felt like his relatives had gone too far. A simple hand gesture combined with the wonders of a Weasley firework did much more than his feeble attempts at diplomacy. Uncle Vernon surprisingly took it the best and did little to dislodge Harry from his makeshift apothecary.

Harry's resources were meagre both in space and ingredients for his potions, yet he had so much to learn that he often would leave Hermione's letters alone for days before he even looked at them. To him though, all of this was for good reason. Staying at the Dursleys permanently was an unattractive and unattractive option, leaving him the wizarding world, where he could hope to set up his own potions shop. Obviously he would have to visit Diagon Alley to see how arrangements could be made, but Harry was taking things one step at a time. Then with a stumble in the simplest part, plan fell apart in a single night.

The room had the calming bubbling of the cauldron to keep Harry company while he brewed a batch of amortentia, the next potion under 'A.' Below he could hear the voices of the Dursleys and some guests Vernon had mentioned. All that he had remembered was something about making himself scarce, an easy enough order since the last thing he would want would be to ruin his work. The potion was hard enough; lacking key ingredients made it even more so. In the end he had made some measured substitutions that he hoped would create a stable result with similar potency. A sudden pop gave him a start and the cauldron spilled over. Harry grabbed a nearby rag to clean up the mess, but the damage had been done.

Harry looked up from the floor and spotted the creature that huddled there. "Do you mind helping some?" he asked with a hint of annoyance. The humanoid snapped its fingers, and the stain on the wooden floor vanished, the cauldron was righted, and all the tools were set neatly in place. Harry's frustration was immediately replaced with wonder at what had unfolded. "Say what's your name? I could use an assistant like you if you're up for it," he said.

"Dobby. Dobby is a house elf that came to warn the wizard Harry Potter. He is in great danger if he does not come to Hogwarts." Harry could only stare at the counter-intuitive claim.

"Well that's nice to know. Um, I've got other stuff to do." To Harry's horror the elf began to beat himself until Harry stopped him. The elf was in tears at this point. "Dobby, what's that matter?" The elf's large eyes made him look like a kitten.

"Dobby will be sad if Harry doesn't go there," Dobby said between sobs. Harry in the meantime was seriously considering what mental condition the house elf might have to go to these extremes. He led the creature to sit on the bed, careful to keep any weapons away from hand's reach.

"There now. I think the problem is that you are depending on my happiness for yours. What you need to do is think for yourself." Dobby's eyes gazed in awe.

"Of course," the elf declared. "Dobby doesn't need the wizard Harry's permission. Dobby will just need to make Harry go to Hogwarts." In a snap the creature was gone; a bang could be heard downstairs. Harry stayed completely still to see what followed. He heard the heavy footsteps of Vernon getting closer to his room and knew that what was coming would be no good. In his years of being crammed away in a cupboard, attacked, and starved, nothing prepared him for what occurred. Harry the 'freak' had been kicked out of the house.


	18. Through the Knight

Everything had happened so quickly. At least Dobby was kind enough to bring his belongings and give him a pointer for what to do: stand with his wand in the air like an idiot. A few cracks announced the arrival of the peculiar vehicle Dobby had mentioned, the Knight Bus. Despite the oddities of the interior, Harry sank into his seat with an odd feeling of reassurance that he would not be stranded in Surrey. Then the bus moved. Harry was oddly glad that he had missed dinner. In another a slam the bus stopped, and Harry stumbled out onto the street. Roughly a year ago Harry had breathed in the bustling of Diagon Alley; now it was dark. The few people that he did see wandering the area seemed like bad options for asking for directions. Furthermore, most stores had closed, and the pub that served as the entry point from London was nowhere in sight. Harry trudged under the weight of his luggage for a few moments, looking for some place to stay for the night, yet his success was no greater in that regard as it was where he started. _Time to try a different area. _He took a turn down another much narrower road to see what could be found. The further he went, the more it twisted about in a rather unsettling way, making it impossible to see either end.

In a flash Harry was blinded by wand-light; when his eyes adjusted, he saw two men holding the still gleaming wands at him. "Hello there, little fella. Need some help to where you might find your folks?" one of the two said. It was clear enough what they wanted.

"That's okay. I appreciate your offer though," Harry replied in hopes that they would leave him alone.

"Sorry, but safety is a particular… concern for us. We can't just leave you to what less friendly people might do. Of course our services do require a bit of, shall we say, compensation," the speaker's friend let out a chuckle at the last word.

"Well I'm sorry, but I really must be going. It's been nice meeting you," Harry wheeled around and saw another wand staring him in the face.

"Sorry mate," the speaker sauntered around till he was face to face with Harry. "We've been short on work and do need something to bring food to the table." There was no escape after all, but Harry decided to take a brief inventory of who he was facing for the theft report. Another light came into view. The man that followed it was tall and broad-shouldered.

"I don't appreciate this kind of disturbance in the night, but if you leave now, I won't put you under arrest." The thugs laughed at the man and began to throw jinxes at him. The stranger dodged them with a stumble and retaliated with three well-aimed stunners that had the opposition down in a matter of seconds. Harry's unforeseen help then morphed from an imposing man to a distinctly shorter woman with a rather tomboyish charm to her.

"Right. Glad that worked out. Need any help finding your parents?" she asked; even her voice had changed.

"Not exactly. What about those guys? You're a police…woman right?"

"An auror. Auror-in-training to be precise. I was just headed from training when I saw a conspicuous boy walking towards Knockturn Alley with no clue of where he was going." Harry blushed; she had a point.

"Um, sorry about that. I've just been looking for a place to stay the night." Harry did his best to look pitiful. His saviour was not even amused.

"Alright. Just follow me and tell me who your family is," she turned around and forced him to nearly run with his baggage in tow to keep up.

"Well my parents are dead, and the relatives I do have just kicked me out." With a groan the woman stopped.

"You're not making this any easier. My name's Tonks. What's yours?"

"Harry Potter." 'Tonks' looked no less frustrated, occasionally muttering about lying kids all the way to her flat, a small but comfortable enough studio. The sparse light sources seemed to be a few luminous balloons dispersed across the ceiling.

"So this is where I live. It's not much, but…" she looked to see Harry in proper lighting. "Merlin! You actually are Harry Potter." It took roughly the next hour for Harry to explain his predicament to a much more credulous audience whose hair changed colour at each new revelation. Tonks glanced at the clock, which read 11:06. "Already that late? We'll continue this talk tomorrow. You get the couch for the night." She accioed a blanket from across the room and tossed over a pillow. As soon as she went to bed the balloons turned off one by one. Harry closed his eyes and for the first time in weeks felt secure in bed with friends despite the bed being a couch and the friends being someone he met on the street.

His eyes fluttered open at 5:00, in part out of practice but also from his sharp hunger pains. A single balloon flickered on to provide just enough ambient lighting for him to navigate around without disturbing his host. He walked over to the kitchenette to prepare some breakfast, finding the amount of food in the pantry fairly limited. With what Harry could scrounge, he started a batch of french toast. From what he saw of other balloons beginning to glow, it seemed that Tonks was waking up too. "Good morning," he said when she shambled passed him. She grunted in return, clearly not much of a morning person evidenced also by her multi-coloured hair. A few moments later she was out of the shower to see the table set.

"Oh yeah, you're still here." Aside from typical pleasantries, breakfast was spent in relative silence up to when Harry finally spoke up.

"So Tonks, how long could I stay here while I try to find an apprenticeship?" Tonks gave an appreciative look at the meal.

"I can manage with you during the weekend, but Monday would be it. Did you do any research when it came to this potion scheme? Of course you didn't. Typically you need to pass your OWLs at minimum. NEWTs are the more common standards for that kind of thing." Harry's face fell at that.

"I guess I don't really have a choice when it comes to the matter after all with or without the house elf's help." In fairness, Harry's idea had been rather far-fetched to begin with. Following breakfast, he grabbed two pieces of parchment to write letters: one to Dumbledore and the other to Hermione. With them finished, he looked for charms related to sound production.


	19. Dear Diary

The past weeks had flown by faster than the previous months. Hermione drew a quill from her book bag to write what had happened in her new diary. The culprit for this whirlwind of action happened to be a letter from Harry, who for the first time since they had mentioned it on the train asked about meeting up. Combine that with the fact that there had been no correspondence from him in the past eight days and Hermione was livelier than usual when she went downstairs for breakfast. "Did you get a letter from Harry?" Mum asked when Hermione took her seat. The knowing smile plastered across her mother's face implied that she knew the answer already.

"More than that actually. Could I visit Diagon Alley to pick up my textbooks on Monday? He offered to tag along." Father, sitting on the other side of the table, lowered his newspaper.

"We can't very well have you gallivanting off there without any supervision," he said. All of the excitement she had found left just as quickly. "But… I think that we could afford to take a short holiday. There aren't any appointments in the afternoon are there, Patia dear?" Mum turned away from the scrambled eggs and giggled at the pet name. Hermione barely managed to stifle a groan.

"I don't think so. How about I check?" Mother looked at the calendar. "Why that is true. We'll finally meet this _friend_ you talk so much about."

"I'm just glad that she'll take her eyes off books for a moment," Dad said. Hermione answered with a glare that would have looked much sterner if she did not have a milk moustache. Once breakfast was done, she wrote out a hasty reply and returned to her books. No matter what she did though, the idea of returning to the wizarding world and seeing a friend was distracting her far more than she would have liked to admit.

The time between Saturday morning and Monday dragged on much longer than expected despite the help of books. Then she woke up on Monday to the buzz of her alarm and saw the clock. 6:05, five minutes later than she wanted to wake up again. She was unusually thorough when it came to brushing her stubborn curls into something that could be considered a manageable hairstyle. After breakfast came the need to choose a proper outfit, another daunting task. Hermione came downstairs just in time to say goodbye to her parents, who complemented her looks. In the intervening time, she read or at least tried to do so. After her parents came back, it was a quick trip to Charing Cross Road.

Mum and Dad were nervous when they walked through what separated the muggle from wizarding world, yet they surprised her by how little they gawked at every sight, a definite contrast to her first experience at Diagon Alley. In time they located the place Harry had written about for lunch, Rosa Lee Teabag shop and found Harry already seated at a table in the alongside a young woman Hermione had never seen. The two stood to greet them, and Hermione subjected her friend to a hug-tackle hybrid, partly out of excitement at seeing him but mostly from the frustration of his poor communication. "You look different," Harry said. "In a good way I mean." There was hardly anything out of the ordinary when it came to his appearance. Harry's body was still scrawny, and his hair if anything, looked more unkempt.

"Here's a new friend of mine, Tonks, just out for lunch." Tonks needed little more of an introduction to give hugs to everyone. 'She was in Hufflepuff,' he mouthed. The parental interactions with him were embarrassing to say the least. Harry reached out a hand to greet Father, who instead brought him into a hug.

"Please call me Apollionus. I trust you've treated our girl well." She even saw him wink at Harry during the last comment.

"And do call me Hypatia," Mum said. "Hermione talks about you almost constantly." The mealtime was dominated by her parents firing the questions to both Harry and Tonks, yet soon Tonks was able to bring her voice into the flow, asking them about their dental practice, something she had learned little about. With them all occupied, Harry dropped the bombshell.

"I just owled Dumbledore. I'll be returning to Hogwarts after all. Funny thing though is that he never actually processed the withdrawal form. Hermione?"

She trusted her never failing instincts and gave him a slap. "You idiot!" and marched out the shop. It a matter of moments, and in the end a few apologies mainly from Harry about 'wanting to surprise you' made the group dynamic as cheery as at the beginning.

"Well I'd better go," Tonks announced. "And Harry, I do hope to see you soon. Just not too soon." They both nodded and shook hands while Tonks waved the others goodbye. Hermione did accidentally bump into a man that looked like Draco's father, but besides that, not much could be said for the rest of the time when it came to picking up books until Harry let loose another relevant point. He had no place to stay at the moment. Naturally her parents were more than happy to fix that problem.

For the most part his stay was nothing out of the ordinary. He had homework to do, yet they both had enough time to discuss their latest findings when it came to magic, something neither of them had been able to do much of since spring. If there was one particular time ingrained in her memory, it was an evening when Father pulled Harry aside and put on the serious face he always wore when he was about to tease a cousin.

"Now Harry, have you kissed my daughter?"

"Thank goodness no," Harry said in what looked like relief.

"Are you saying she's not good looking?" Harry's face blanched.

"Well I mean yes, but not to say she's not smart too. I don't mean to say you can't be smart and pretty. She's definitely—"

"Poll! Stop teasing him," Mum said; Dad burst out laughing. Hermione on the other hand went upstairs, not amused at all. At the end of August they both were at the 9 and 3/4 station wishing her parents farewell. After the train ride in which the two shared a compartment with a few of Hermione's Ravenclaw friends and some girls from Slytherin, they arrived by carriage to Hogwarts castle for the next sorting.

As she finished writing in the Ravenclaw Common Room, Hermione felt glad to finally put some of her thoughts onto paper. What did surprise her is how this worn, black diary had come into her possession. Odder still, writing started to appear on the paper. 'Get your filthy hands off me, Mudblood,' it wrote. Hermione frowned.

"I wouldn't touch that. It's infested with wrackspurts," Luna told her. Hermione found the girl odd but agreed with her on that point. She got her filthy hands off the book by holding it out of a window in the Common Room and letting go.

"Good riddance," she said and went to bed.


	20. Never Badger a Weasley

There had been little to do over the summer for Ron. Although he kept in regular contact with Draco, most of his activities consisted doing chores around the Burrow or helping Dad with some of his muggle experiments. He did see about there being a joint trip to Diagon Alley with the Malfoys, but oddly no one else in his family seemed on board. Thus, summer passed by in a dreadfully ordinary fashion aside from the fact that for once, they were punctual in their arrival to the Hogwarts Express. This seemed strange to him since most of the time they would pull out to realise that someone had forgotten something. In this case, everyone did that at least once; the moment they double checked in their bag, however; the item was neatly set in place.

In the end, Ron was able to enjoy a train ride that saw him forgetting only one key thing: doing his summer homework assignments. He hugged all of his Hufflepuff friends, which basically was anyone wearing yellow, and made sure that Ginny would feel just as welcome. He was unsure where she would end up, but being the odd Weasley out was a somewhat unattractive thought to him. The Sorting Ceremony of his year had started with the hat singing a queer ditty that came to an abrupt halt. This time around, it just said some odd instructions and introduced the houses by a name and colour basis only.

Ron paid little attention to the first names. A few went over to Ravenclaw, and one fellow landed himself in Slytherin. "HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat said. Ron looked over at the newcomer, a cheery boy who clutched a camera in his hands.

"You must the the Ron!" he said in far too audible of enthusiasm.

"Well I am a Ron. I don't think I've met you."

"Sorry about that, I just got a bit excited you see, I'm Colin Creevey by the way, of course you haven't heard of me but you're the Hufflepuff Who Chessed!" Colin said in a single breath. How the person did that was beyond Ron's understanding. Also, since when was he the 'Hufflepuff Who Chessed?' Was 'chessing' a verb? Colin tried to snap a picture when a new Hufflepuff arrived, Phineas Harper. Ron stood up to greet him.

"I know you. You're the Hufflepuff Who Chessed!" Phineas said. Ron looked to people of his year. Hannah, Susan, Pansy, and Draco were giving him thumbs up; they were in on it too. Ron spotted Luna Lovegood skip up to the hat next.

"RAVENCLAW!" The next was a Morag MacDougal, who found her way to Slytherin, undoubtedly to join the girls' fan club of Harry Potter there. Ron looked and met eyes with Harry, and for a single moment he understood the pain Harry went through every day that he would share in as well. He looked back at the hat when McGonagall said the words he had been waiting for:

"Weasley, Ginevra." Ron held his breath.

"GRYFFINDOR!" His heart sank. Eating raised his spirits considerably, but Ron knew that he would be long remembered as the only Weasley of Hufflepuff. Much of the things at this opening feast was the same this year as last. Dumbledore told the students about where they should not go (Places where students would try to reach at all costs), and the headmaster called for the singing of the Hogwarts song; it began in its charming dissonance.

"Autonomus Tonalis!" Ron heard. Voices once singing in whatever key seemed comfortable made an immediate shift to the same key, leading to a charming multipart harmony. "Rhythmus Contrapuntum!" he heard as well, and those that joined in late began to form a new voice as the song began to make a surprisingly elaborate fugue. Ron pivoted around to see the source and saw Harry, maintaining the spell-work with clear four beat conducting with his wand. The whole time they spent walking to the Hufflepuff Common Room, Ron could see that Draco was in a bad mood, the kind of mood that would launch him into planting a garden of Devil's Snare in a courtyard. Ron was internally debating asking about it when Draco faced him at the entrance to the Common Room.

"That Potter has some nerve. He said he'd leave as a publicity stunt when he didn't just insult the Hufflepuff Who Played Chess." Ron was baffled, but Draco continued. "We lost last year but we won't this time, and that starts with Quidditch!" Draco then pulled out a Nimbus 2001 from his bag. "I bought this with the hard-earned money I made from my gardening this summer, but I want everyone on the team to have one. For that, I say we start a bake-sale. Who's with me?" Now Hufflepuffs of all years had gathered around Draco, who stood atop a table. They let out a cheer. "Now after me. Hufflepuff wins the cup!"

"The best house wins the cup!" they all replied with equal enthusiasm. Apparently the lack of competitive spirit in Hufflepuff would be an obstacle to work around. Hugs went all around and the prefects came in to settle the mob down with a fresh batch of cookies. Ron smiled and walked over to the dorm where his bed awaited him. Draco came in a few minutes later, drunk on his success.

"Ron? I need a favour." Favours were always bad news with Draco.

"What do you have in mind?"

"We need a symbol of hope to latch onto, and I think that you're the person for it." _No. I'm Ron Weasley the Hufflepuff._

"So…"

"You should tryout to be seeker on the team." _What about Cedric?_

"Well I guess I can give that a go," Ron answered absentmindedly. He drifted off to sleep to be woken up far earlier than his summertime routine had accounted for. He opened his heavy lids and saw Draco giving him a vigorous shake. "What is it? I'm tired."

"Come on Ron! We've got to work you into shape. Remember what you said?" Draco answered in a tense whisper. Ron looked at his watch: 5:00. How little had he known what he was getting into when he said yes.


	21. A Hero Never Takes Things Lion Down

It was a difficult thing for Neville to dislike someone; Draco could be rather mean for instance, yet Neville found it surprisingly easy to make amends when the time came around. Maybe the fact that Draco was practically frothing in the mouth from fear in the Forbidden Forest played a role. Zacharias Smith was another matter entirely. Neville had offered a hand in greeting that the other refused the moment Zacharias reached the Gryffindor Table to join his new house. "I've heard about you," Zacharias sneered. "You're the one who was friendly with that Death Eater Potter." A year ago, Neville would have stood this one down; he had grown since then.

"I wouldn't say Harry and I are close, but that doesn't mean that you're right about him."

Smith snorted, "I'm not an idiot." Neville felt unsure about jumping to conclusions. "He steered the whole school to work his way. I'll stop him this time."

"Well don't expect any help from me."

"I wasn't." Smith stamped off, an odd tactic since he had seen little of the castle as of yet. Neville was in no mood to fix that, however. He looked past the seat Smith had abandoned and saw the Weasley girl, her hair still in disarray from wearing the hat.

"So you're the youngest. Is Ginevra okay or should I call you—"

"Ginny," she answered in a display of bravery that Neville could have never hoped for when he started school. "Ron's mentioned you in his adventures." The memories of the Forbidden Corridor came back in a flood. The heat of the moment had made Neville feel so much bolder than usual, yet after all the fun at school last year, the dangers he had faced had started to sink in. Neville spent a space of time clearing his mind with a beginner's Occlumency technique he had learned to deal with the trauma. When he opened his eyes, he could see the concern in Ginny's.

"Sorry about that. I'm not much of a Gryffindor, but if you've got plant issues, you can count on me," he put on the cheesiest expression possible and earned a laugh from her. Ginny gave a wayward look at Harry, who had most of the girls of his year sitting around him. "It'd be hard to be able to date him you know, young ages aside." Her face nearly turned the colour of her hair.

"It's that obvious?" Ginny asked and buried her face in her arms.

"There've been a good number swarming him. You learn the tells pretty quickly." That did little to improve her clearly despondent feelings. Seeing that he was doing more harm than good, Neville walked back to Gryffindor Tower ahead of everyone else. Up he went to the Fat Lady with one small problem; he had forgotten the password. Given how common this really was, Neville felt a surge of frustration for not remembering how forgetful he could be. "I suppose you couldn't just let me in because you recognise me?"

"No, you could be polyjuiced." Neville had to wonder who would ever choose to polyjuice as him. If they wanted to do a proper impersonation, they would have to act as if they had forgotten the password, which defeated the whole purpose.

"Might Dobby be of service?" Neville practically jumped at the sight of the house elf popping into view.

"Do you know the code for getting in?" Dobby gave a nod.

"Password." The door opened, leaving Neville to wonder if that had been a brilliant choice of someone to choose such an obvious password to prevent anyone from thinking of guessing it or if the prefect was just lazy. He looked over at his unforeseen help, still standing by him expectantly.

"Well is there anything I can do for you?"

"Quidditch!" Dobby cried. "Dobby saw that Gryffindor needs a seeker. The Great Master Neville would be brilliant!"

"I'll do it then," Neville answered. Obviously he could never make the team, but facing his fears would be good for him. Never mind the fact that he barely scraped by with an A in Flight.


	22. Gallivanting with Gilderoy

Waking up early on a Monday morning was hardly what could be called fun to Harry. When he remembered that class was History of Magic at seven, he knew that his life was hardly getting any better. Why it was scheduled for that time was beyond him. History of Magic was by far the dullest class, and the painful reminder that they were missing precious sleeping hours to learn about the next goblin rebellion seemed beyond Harry. He came in after a few mouthfuls of breakfast and took a seat next to Hermione, being sure to thank her for saving it. Although it was not the same as sitting together in Potions, she performed the invaluable and somewhat annoying task of keeping him awake whenever he started nodding off.

Harry would have liked to have been able to grab some more breakfast, a sadly impossible dream since he needed to rush to make it in time to Herbology. He entered and saw class was with the Hufflepuffs. Malfoy leered at him, a comforting reminder that some things in life remained constant. "How was your summer?" Harry said.

"Better than yours I'm sure." Harry decided it was best to leave it there and for the most part kept his head down. Charms came next with the Gryffindors. Flitwick set them to working on a freezing charm that demanded a surprisingly nuanced wand gesture to be successful. Neville as usual did rather poorly, setting part of his desk on fire, but at least he managed to cast a wordless incendio. His last class before Astronomy was Defence Against the Dark Arts, taught by the illustrious (according to Hermione) Gilderoy Lockhart. As per usual when Ravenclaws were in class with him, he made a point to sit where she preferred: front row. Lockhart strode into the room with his stylish robes sweeping behind him. He stopped to toss his hair to the side and smiled when it fell neatly into place. Harry could hardly fathom how many times the professor had rehearsed such a flamboyant entrance. The professor drew his wand, flourished it so that the tip glowed blue, and turned to face his class.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of _Witch's Weekly's _Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling _at her!" As he said these words his wand moved like a stylus, colouring the board with his signature. Harry chuckled; he had expected him to be a bit on the showy side, but this went beyond expectations. Harry raised his hand. "Ah, Harry Potter, the new rising star in the wizarding world."

"Um, thanks, Professor. How did you manage it?"

"Beat the Bandon Banshee? All quite elementary. If you'd care to come up to the front, I could reenact it." The invitation was tempting.

"Um, no sorry. I was talking about the smiling part."

"Ah, naturally. Now realise although I have had some success, my speciality is in activities of a more dangerous nature. There are a few things that could be said, however. When smiling, people too often focus solely on the mouth. This is of course a vital component to any winning look, but the expression in the eyes and general posture can have a significant effect on what is conveyed. Another major problem is a lack of subtlety. You must understand your natural looks to see what best suits you for each and every occasion. This brings about the…"

Lockhart continued on this tangent for the rest of class, assigning everyone to write two-foot essay on how they could best apply Lockhart's Three Laws of Smiling. In fairness, the professor had proved himself a wealth of knowledge on the matter. Harry left the classroom satisfied yet wondering what the forgotten, covered birdcage their professor had brought in contained.

"What were you doing?" Hermione asked him as they excited, not amused at all by what had been taught.

"I just wanted to learn more like you. He was the one who decided to take up so much time with the subject."

"That's not the point! I studied for completely different material. My grades will plummet!" Harry realised that this was a better time than any to put those principles to use and set his arm on her shoulder and wore the most devious smirk he could manage.

"Don't worry. We can work on the assignment before I go to astronomy. I'm sure we'll be smiling by the end of it." Hermione looked both placated and unsettled; Harry pushed his luck further and tried his best Lockhart impersonation. "Besides, it's a gentleman's duty to assist the fair maiden in her troubles." Hermione now laughed and pushed his arm off, still maintaining the friendly rapport. Harry left in a happy mood, confident that this year would remain uneventful.


	23. Trouble Comes to Those Who Seek It

It happened one morning after the next, a regimen that left Ron crawling into the Great Hall for breakfast, the meal that kept him sane. All the same, he could tell a noticeable difference in his body by the way he felt. Every muscle was aching: especially the legs. Running was bad enough; running with a broomstick between the legs could make things even nastier with one bad step. Probably the worst part was that it was a Tuesday, which meant coming to History of Magic after his session but before his meal. The class was rough enough at to attend at eight last year. Going to it at six for a two hour long class period was beyond awful. Fortunately after these long tribulations there was one consolation: breakfast.

Ron staggered into his seat; a hearty meal awaited him. He grinned at the sight. If there was an upside to this exercise routine, it was the fact that he could eat even more than he had ever hoped. "Are you alright?" Hannah said, her concern quite evident from watching him arrive like this one day after the next.

"Don't worry. Just remember what Justin says from that muggle show 'Star Track' he likes: 'The needs of the few are greater than the needs of the many.'" That sounded a bit off, but Ron was not one to comprehend the minds of muggles.

"Here's the hero!" Draco said. In his hands was a fresh plate of food for Ron. "Need to keep your protein levels up so that you don't injure yourself." Ron replied by tearing into the rashers; a flash stopped him mid-bite. Colin was in front of him with his camera. Ron finished taking his bite. Colin gave an awkward laugh. Ron went back to eating.

"Um sorry about that. Do you mind autographing the picture?" Colin asked. Ron swallowed and felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Taking another bite, he saw Lockhart standing next to him.

"The Hufflepuff-Who-Chessed I see. Already getting endorsements from food?" Lockhart said with a merry laugh; the man's head inclined towards Ron's ear and whispered: "That said, don't let the fame get to you. I've had that experience a few times myself sadly." Ron nodded and continued eating. A beautiful thing about being a celebrity in Hufflepuff was that people never took too much offence if a person preferred his food compared to engaging in actual conversations.

The breakfast had tied Ron over quite nicely. That was when he remembered a single detail he had overlooked last week. Today was Flying Class, something never to do on a full stomach. Oddly the exercises did pay off to an extent. He could make faster and sharper turns than before due to his leg muscles being better able to absorb the force. For the most part though, Hooch set them to working on group formations much like birds. To make things more interesting, she divided class into two teams: one for Slytherin and the other for Hufflepuff.

The primary issue with that configuration was a matter of teamwork and talent or lack thereof. Team Hufflepuff had the willingness to coordinate; it just could not work past that as one person's steering would go wrong the moment they hit a gust of wind, shattering the formation. The Slytherins were a lot more adaptive to the wind's eddies, Harry being the best example in making the smallest micro adjustments to stay on course. The problem came when they tried anything that involved proximity; jostling inevitably ensued. Ron groaned as the number of students brought over to the infirmary was more than half the class. Of the remainders on Team Hufflepuff were Draco, Pansy, Susan, Wayne, and himself. The Slytherin side had Harry along with most of the boys and one girl.

"Alright everyone else here come over," Hooch ordered. Ron dreaded what could be the next thing in store. "I'd think that you all know about Quidditch. It's a dangerous sport, and since all of you left here are not too injured, if you apply to join a team, you'll have my recommendation. Dismissed." Ron's legs were burning from the activity and wanted little more than to roll into bed. Unfortunately for him, Astronomy class ruined that dream.

In the following week, Ron began to adapt to the slog of physical conditioning even as his homework continued to pile up. There was one certainty, however. The posting in the Hufflepuff Common Room made him never forget the impending date for the tryouts: October 1st. Oddly enough considering all the dread he had for the event, little of it stayed in his memory. He recollected the brief handshake with the captain and Draco, a few manoeuvres to see basic skills, and last of all the scrimmage. At last there was a silent face-off between him and Cedric. Ron would have felt more nervous if he was less tired. He nodded off a few times but caught himself before things went badly. "You're good at feinting," Cedric complemented after a particularly close dive.

"Thanks?" Ron answered, unsure why someone would be proud about their ability to faint. Ron tried to focus a lot harder on what was going on under him. He saw Susan racing around with the Quaffle but no sight of the snitch. The buzzing of a fly was doing him no favours either. He gave a few idle swats at it and saw that Cedric was coming in a hurry to help him. Ron had to pivot away when Cedric nearly nicked him.

"Sorry!" Cedric yelled.

"Just give me a heads up next time," Ron said. He struggled to get back to finding where the snitch would be only for that incessant buzzing to bother him again. When it got close to his ears, Ron brought both hands in a decisive clap around it just before Cedric raced by to get it. Ron held the insect in hand, still fluttering. He looked at his catch with satisfaction. It was a snitch? The end result was him making the team as reserve seeker and Susan became the new chaser. Wayne, who had tried for keeper, was a good sport about it, and the three along with Draco were merrily returning to the Common Room when they saw Mrs. Norris hanging by her tail against a torch with blood-red writing staining the wall. The three shook their heads; that was poor taste as far as pranks went.


	24. The Girl in a High Tower

"The more I take, the more I leave behind. What am I?" the eagle asked. Hermione thought back to her first times trying to decipher the questions. They had stumped her at first before she started noticing the word-play buried beneath them. After that it was straightforward enough aside from the one time in which the eagle asked what her favourite colour was. She nearly said the wrong answer in her bewilderment.

Luna took a different approach charitably speaking: "Aquavirius maggots are known to breed a lot if their numbers ever fall below carrying capacity." The eagle sighed and let her enter. Hermione came in behind her and headed to her favourite spot in the common room, a chair that faced the a tall window overlooking the Forbidden Forest. She opened another of Lockhart's volumes to study something they would hopefully be tested on. The last few classes had been as disastrous as the first; Harry gotten the professor on the subject of memory charms, for which Lockhart proved himself a remarkable (as always) expert.

By far the subject was less insipid than smiling, but it begged one major question for Hermione: why if Lockhart knew so much about this topic did he not mention its use in combat scenarios? Giving up on her knowledgeable yet absentminded mentor from working with any prescribed plan, class became a challenge between Harry and her to see who could derail it first. In the next class session, she made a point to ask as directly as possible: "You mentioned making a vampire to switch to a vegetarian diet. Would you mind showing how this could be put into practice?" Lockhart's answer was entertaining no doubt, but the content remained vague, primarily on the insistence that this was a specific case that would be unlikely to be duplicated with other vampiric creatures. Harry's hand was up before Hermione could think of a followup, and the rest of the class was spent with the professor explaining the nuances of proper alliteration in book titles.

By the end of the month, Hermione was forced to admit that Lockhart was a subpar professor _despite _his being a great practitioner. Harry said otherwise, something she refused to listen to. Recently they had seen far less of each other; which might have been for the better given blood status. Hermione frowned, noticing again that she had been completely unfocussed in her studies, a more common occurrence as of late. A few footsteps pattered behind her. "Hermione?" Megan said. "Lisa, Milly, Tracey and I are headed to the first Quidditch game. Want to join?" The question was odd for a number of reasons. Hermione had little enjoyment in watching the sport, and the match was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, neither of which interested her. Megan seemed to catch on to her vacant stare. "You _won't _want to miss this." Hermione looked back at her book and then to her friend.

"Fine," she said. It seemed that her efforts to study would be in vain anyways. They proceeded to the stands where their house sat, and Hermione drew a book out of her robes.

"Hermione! You'll miss him," Lisa said. Hermione was puzzled. She knew hardly anyone in Gryffindor, and while there was Harry, Hermione had never heard him express much interest in the sport. Hermione sighed in frustration. She had tagged along on practically a whim when there were other things she would have preferred to do. The writing, still covering the wall was a disturbing sight, and given how Harry had been last year, Hermione had expected him to draw her into another of his schemes, the confrontation in the library finally revealed his thoughts on the matter.

They were both working on potions essays at the time. "Why haven't you asked about us figuring out the whole petrification thing?" Hermione blurted out. Harry calmly finished writing a line before he looked up.

"Why bother? Sure the voice was creepy and everything, but for all that talk about killing, who goes after a cat?" All of this sounded so wrong. She was the voice of reason between the two of them.

"But that doesn't make sense. You practically dragged me into the corridor last year."

"Well last year we knew things. Where and what are the chamber and the heir?" Hermione had nothing to say on that matter; Harry was beginning to sound exasperated. "Besides, I don't want any more trouble." Hermione knew when she had hit a wall, and preferred to not continue bashing into one. As one of his few friends, it was important to not push her luck too much. Thus, the issue was a matter of finding out what these things were. Sadly she had forgotten _Hogwarts: a History _at home, and all copies had been checked out at the library. Hermione looked down at the book she had brought: _The Parallel Lives of the Hogwarts Founders._ She had answers right in front of her. Lisa continued to jostle her.

"What?" she demanded. Hermione looked up where Lisa pointed and saw the seekers flying overhead. If she did not know better from Neville's bad performance in Flight both this and last year, she would have guessed that he was up there. She could not make the same mistake when it came to Slytherin; Harry was their new seeker. The game proceeded in its typical, peculiar fashion, aided in some ways by Lee Jordan's commentary:

"It looks like Slytherin's got the quaffle first I'm afraid. Flint's passed it to Pucey, and he's bringing it towards the goal. Oh, and look at the bludger from one of the Weasleys, it knocks the quaffle just off course. Now Spinnet has it and bypasses the Slytherin chasers. It's a pass to Johnson and then Bell; they're up to the Slytherin goals! I say, that looked a lot like a tactic the Bulgarian team does. Thoughts McGonagall?"

"It does seem that way. It's a fairly complex thing to coordinate since it requires abandoning a lot of defence to properly set up. The first practice of it dates to… oh never mind." The game continued back and forth in a much too dizzying fashion for Hermione's preferences. Suddenly a new event took her and everyone else's interests.

"There's the snitch right under Longbottom!" Jordan yelled. _How did Neville make it? _Harry went down for a dive. Neville came hurtling after him. Hermione saw the golden snitch racing to the ground and then taking a sharp turn so that it ran parallel. Harry was quick to alter his trajectory just inches from the turf while Neville was not as lucky, rolling across the field after a nearly full stop. Harry had lost a good deal of speed while he slowed, all of which he was picking up. The distance between him and snitch continued to close until it shot back into the air. Harry, nearly crashing into a goal post, veered around it and raced into the sky. Neville, back up on his broom, was getting dangerously close. The two climbed from opposite directions, both nearer and nearer until they crashed into each other the instant they reached the snitch.

Hermione could only watch as the two fell despite a few teammates who tried to cushion the fall. The two landed at once and the area was completely silent aside from a the few who scrambled to get them to the infirmary. Harry and Neville slowly lifted the snitch, held in their hands.


	25. A Snake in the Grass

The crunch sounded almost as bad as it felt when they hit the ground. Harry put all of his willpower into raising up his uninjured arm that held the snitch for a mere second before letting it fall limp. In part he was considering himself lucky that he could not feel his legs; he heard an odd incantation and then drifted off to sleep. When Harry woke up, he was lying the same infirmary bed as before. Neville was right beside him, and by the looks of it, they had experienced similar luck. "Good game," Harry said and waved or tried to do so. The result was his fingers wiggling.

"Yeah, good one," Neville said. Even if they had more to say, Madam Pomfrey walked in.

"Children these days. When I was a student there were no more than seven deaths from Quidditch games," she muttered as she cast one healing charm after the next. In a matter of minutes Harry's body seemed to the same as when he had walked out of bed; he nearly did that very thing before Pomfrey gave him a stern warning to wait an hour when she could screen him with a final round of diagnostic spells. Not surprising him, Hermione was his first visitor during the intervening time.

"Who won?" he asked after she released him from the hug.

"Of course that's what you say after all that you did." Harry took a look at his friend. Her hair was more frazzled than usual, and her eyes appeared a bit red.

"Um, sorry about that. Do you know the score?" She shook her head. The rest of the time was primarily her talking about some odd finding regarding Salazar Slytherin; Harry, feeling tired more than anything, just nodded. The Slytherin team came in next, and Marcus gave him a congratulations on his flying in the form of a firm handshake. The catch was declared a tie by Hooch, an unprecedented event in the history of Hogwarts Quidditch. As a result the snitch's score was applied to both teams, letting Slytherin win by a mere 220 points to 190. They left one by one; when the last had exited the room.

That left a logical conclusion for who would come next. Hermione tended to panic about even small injuries and would have arrived the earliest. The team would have come next either out of priority or a nearly as fast trip to the infirmary, the latter evidenced by their not having changed or showered. That left an obvious candidate for the visitors: his ever growing fan-club. All of them were girls of course, most from Slytherin in his year, a couple a year above him including Hestia, and a few first years as well. What surprised him was the presence of a couple Ravenclaws his year that he could actually name and a blonde first year.

When Harry had started, the idea of having such a club would have sounded horrific to him. Lockhart made it worse, finding it in him to offer advice on the kind of pictures girls would want for a calendar. That still said, the organisation prevented a large extent of unwanted affection from them as they entered into some odd mutual agreement. There were the customary get well soon cards, probably filled with innuendo that he missed, and of course a pile of sweets. Definitely laced with love potions if the last few classes of potions had taught him anything. Harry made a mental note to find good guinea pigs for them.

Most of the questions they asked were innocent enough to give simple straightforward answers. Then there was the first year's question: "Who's your crush?" The truth was obvious; Harry was too busy avoiding girls to think about chasing them, but that would not do.

"What would be the fun in telling you?" he said with a knowing smile. There was a definite risk to that came with that kind of challenge, yet the alternate lie of naming one of them his crush could have consequences he shuddered thinking about. The giggles of a few girls from Slytherin was unsettling to say the least; that always meant they were scheming. Harry then made his next plan: stay in the infirmary indefinitely, a totally viable way to avoid their plots. He needed to get better at this. Although few of the braver girls kissed him on the cheek, Lavendar went for the mouth until Harry had a perfectly timed yawn that forced her to retarget for the same area as the others.

"I'll get you for that," she whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder. All of them filed out except Hestia, who had been standing near the back of the crowd wearing a smug expression.

"You were behind this," he said in what he had initially intended to voice as a question. "I don't know if I should thank or hex you."

"Well someone had to put some order to them after the chaos of last year. It might make a few holidays more… interesting as well."

"You're evil you know. What does your sister make of this?" Although Harry knew that Hestia was only one of the Carrow twins, it had puzzled him that he had had practically no contact with the other.

"Not much. We've got clear boundaries of what and who we touch; I got lucky." If it had been first year, Harry might have been naïve enough to ask how she was lucky. Now he did not dare. She left wearing a smile he had learned to dread from Slytherins. Pomfrey discharged them a few moments later, and Neville left.

"You can go now. Just don't hurt yourself," Pomfrey told him when he refused to move for the next five minutes.

Harry thought of what could await him: "I couldn't stay the night could I?" She sighed but assented. He fell into a fitful nightmare that had him awaken in the now dark infirmary room, unlit aside from two eyes that stared at him.

"W-who are you?" Harry said all the while fumbling for his wand.

"Master Harry Potter doesn't remember Dobby?" Yes Dobby the house elf. The nice albeit odd creature that forced him out of his house and onto the streets. In the case of normal day, Harry would find this company unpleasant; now it was a breath of fresh air compared to the horrors he had endured.

"What do you want. I'm here now."

"Dobby was wondering if Master Harry is happy now."

"I guess I am aside from what just happened. Why ask?"

"Dobby's been busy making life at Hogwarts good and safe for Master Harry. That's why Dobby is sorry for the Quidditch game." Everything fell into place.

"The snitch was you?" The elf nodded. "Why?"

"Master Harry wanted a challenge. Now he looks worse." The eyes floated closer. "Dobby sees the issue now. Stupid Dobby!" The creature leaped of the bed and started whacking its head against the bedpost.

"What are you talking about, Dobby?" Harry said, worried for the elf.

"What Master Harry needs his help with love." Dobby popped away before Harry could correct him. Knowing the danger he was in, it took a week before Harry stopped wearing his invisibility cloak whenever he was in the Slytherin Common Room.


	26. The Slythering Fool

When Mrs. Norris was petrified, most considered it a harmless prank. Few could say the same when a few Gryffindors saw Colin Creevey in a similar state a couple days after the Quidditch game. Rumours had started to circulate around blaming Slytherins for it, an odd thing to Harry since using red for the lettering was decidedly bad taste to any housemate he knew. Despite that obvious logical fallacy, there were clear differences in the ways he was treated. Neville no longer acted on familiar terms, probably out of fear. Draco was acting even more draconian around him, and Ron avoided Harry as much as possible. The Hufflepuff tried to be subtle about it, but with Weasleys subtlety came about as naturally as flying for elephants.

Harry was sitting in the library one evening working on a charms essay with Hermione when he noticed something else. Before it was fairly common for some of her friends to join in. Now it was just the two of them. "Say Harry?" she said. He could hear the slightest quiver in her voice and immediately knew what she would talk about. "I've enjoyed being spending time with you, but I'm a mud-blood you know." Unfortunately Harry had heard that derisive term far too much in the gossiping circles; sometimes he wished that he did not need so many precautions.

"We both know that doesn't matter. I'm a half-blood, which is about as bad where I've been sorted," he said, desperate to salvage the relationship. The outcome was obvious by her eyes that were shining with tears.

"It does though. I saw all of first year when you sent most of your time alone. I was learning about Slytherin, it's no surprise that you don't have many friends. If you kept around better company, none of that would happen." Although Harry heard every word, all he could concentrate on was that fact that he was about to lose the best friend he had ever made.

"Are you really throwing this away?" The question was hurtful, and Harry knew that. He was too focussed on keeping from breaking down.

"We can still talk in class. And I do care about you."

"I thought you did too." He rose and walked away. Destination and time seemed no longer important as dinnertime passed by him unnoticed. In his wandering he reached a doorway he had never seen. It opened to an expanding passageway that he trudged through; where it led to seemed to be of no consequence. He just wanted answers. At the end was another doorway. He opened it and found himself right in front of Dumbledore's office.

He ambled out and when he looked back, the door was gone. There was little to lose. "Sherbet Lemon," he said. The office still had its peculiar menagerie of oddities; this time Harry noticed a particular hat that he could ascribe all of his problems. He placed the dusty cap on his head.

"Well if it isn't my favourite Slytherin," the hat rumbled. "You're not feeling so sure about that though are you."

"I just lost my best friend because of where you put me," Harry snapped. The hat sounded unperturbed.

"Perhaps there is a point to that, but would you have done any better elsewhere?" Harry thought for a moment. Gryffindor had been the house of choice for him, yet as much as Harry hated to admit it, the culture practically bred brash idiots. Neville definitely had grown from being there, but could he have? Hufflepuff practically promised friendship, but that could be considered only the result of good manners, not any altruism they supposedly cultivated. Strangely Slytherin, where people were transparent about the fact that they had ulterior motives, seemed the more reassuring to him. His house attachment had lost him a friendship with Hermione, yet he doubted that he would have had her in any other case.

Though Harry hated to admit it, it was clear that he had initially approached her because of her devotion to coursework, not on account of friendship. It was at this moment that he saw Dumbledore shuffle in. Harry removed the hat from his head and awaited Dumbledore's scolding. The headmaster instead gave that typical, twinkling expression that betrayed nothing of what the old wizard planned. "Sorry for intruding, sir," Harry said. A soft hand stopped him from retreating.

"You were wondering about your sorting I see."

Harry nodded: "I had thought that I didn't fit in. After that I put it on and saw how much I do, and I don't like that." While Dumbledore stroked his beard, he approached his desk where a jar of Every Flavour Beans rested.

"There's worse than spinach at least. Now regarding that. I'd just remind you that even Hufflepuffs can be lazy. What matters in the end is you." The professor grabbed the the hat and from it drew out a sword more ornate than anything Harry had ever seen. "The Sword of Godric Gryffindor. And that is the magic trick of the evening." Harry wanted to ask more, but he preferred to not question Dumbledore when he had been dismissed.

Harry sat in his usual spot in classes with the Ravenclaws that day, and Hermione was more willing to still remain on friendly terms. Harry still felt hurt, but he did his best to hide it, something of which she did a much better job. Still, classes felt stale; even Charms seemed to be a misnomer. The following day was when Harry surprised everyone in DADA by not raising his hand. "You're not asking a question today?" Lockhart asked, seemingly stumped at this as much as everyone else.

"No, Professor." The result was incredible; Harry had conditioned his teacher so much that he had not thought to prepare anything for class.

"Well then… I suppose that you are wondering what I am about to teach today… This is a good question since it shows an interest in what I and this school can offer you. Thus, after much consideration, in due process of mind, based upon the needs of each individual student's performance this year, yet also not forgetting the standards a professor must hold to at this prestigious institution, I have decided to do the following, which I am pleased to say should afford each of you both an enjoyable and educational experience that you I'm sure have come to expect and appreciate…" Lockhart stalled from his rather convincing delaying tactic. Harry, feeling more amused, decided to nudge him a bit by raising his hand. "Yes, Harry?"

"Are you wanting us to guess, Professor?" The worry disappeared from Lockhart's face.

"Precisely! Two points to Slytherin." The next minutes were spent in a quick back and forth.

"Vampire-slaying field trip!" Crabbe said.

"Afraid not. I can't risk losing someone you see."

"A book-signing event?" said Lisa Turpin, clearly aware of his charlatan behaviour.

"No, but capital suggestion. Five points to Ravenclaw."

"Duelling club!" Zabini shouted from the back. Lockhart weighed the concept before answering.

"Exactly. Two points to Slytherin. Now, although I have plans already in place for this, I'd like to hear what you think would make a world-class duelling club. Get in groups and brainstorm."


	27. The Draco Gambit

_This is an idiotic idea. _Still Ron went through with the plan the moment he stepped into the Huffepuff Common Room. "Draco, I need your help with something that is the sworn duty of any member of Hufflepuff."

His friend's response was an inquisitive glance. "What do you mean? Teatime's in the afternoon, and I've already gotten scones prepared."

Ron could feel his stomach growl in anticipation; Draco's cooking had improved by bounds during the summer. _No, back on track. _"Not that actually."

"What did they do to you!" Draco screamed in panic. A sensible reaction given that Ron barely talked about anything besides food, chess, food, and Quidditch.

"I'm talking about the petrifications. We need to do something." His friend still seemed unconvinced.

"What about our bake-sale? That's for the good of everyone."

Ron raked his mind for something Draco could latch onto; then it clicked. "That's not the point. We need to work for the greater good."

Draco smiled. "The greater good!" they cheered and settled down to have a few cups of tea.

"So we should have a plan," declared Ron. Draco faced him slack-jawed at this profound statement.

"A plan?"

"Yeah, we kind of just went into the last one headfirst—"

"—which worked—"

"—out not in the best way." The rest of their time together was mostly spent in silence aside from sipping tea. Slytherin was no doubt the source of these atrocities; how it came together was beyond them. When it was knitting or cleaning, strategy practically wrote itself. The two adjourned the meeting having concluded that white tea was better than yellow tea.

Although they had little planned, Duelling Club was one thing Ron and Draco both wanted to attend regardless of the teacher. After the Quidditch season was cancelled, Ron had felt devastated. This was a meagre substitute but a substitute all the same. The pair entered the Great Hall with the rest of the Hufflepuff flock that wanted to attend as well. People from every house had arrived, and at the end of the hall stood Lockhart and Snape. Lockhart gave a barebones explanation of the rules and showed the audience how to be beaten in the quickest way possible.

As usual, their defence professor showed a remarkable lack of embarrassment at his defeat, explaining the use of a disarming spell in such situations. Everyone was to find a partner for practicing disarming their opponents without any direct spells aside from what was shown.

"Potter!" Draco yelled from across the room before anyone had moved. "I challenge you to a duel right here right now." Harry looked puzzled, yet it seemed that Lockhart saw an opportunity.

"There's nothing better than a friendly rivalry. Perhaps you could use a crowd." The two sheepishly walked to where he directed, in front of the entire club. When they bowed, Ron looked at the expressions. Harry looked completely neutral, never a good sign. Early last year Ron had learned that Harry kept himself prepared for almost any situation, and there was undoubtedly contingency after contingency planned. On the other side Ron could see a smile on Draco's face; he was going to use his trump card. In a flash their wands were in position.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled. He launched one after the other at Draco, who stayed light on his feet to dodge each in turn.

All the while Ron could hear the familiar incantation: "Operimentum Pellem Melis!" A honey badger leaped from the wand, barrelling towards Harry.

"Stupify! Petrificus Totalus!" cried Harry, yet the spells bounced off the creature's hide. Desperation was contorting his face. "Serpentsortia!" A snake exploded from Harry's wand and fell in front of the badger. Harry hissed at the serpent, which moved to attack the badger. The honey badger tore off its head, but instead of continuing its rampage, proceeded to eat the rest of the snake in spite of Draco's urging.

Harry smirked and sent another disarming charm at Draco, who dodged it and everything else Harry cast. This left Draco with no time for good enough form to cast another spell; it was clear that Harry had the advantage. Then there was a snarl once the badger had finished eating. It charged, resulting in a comical chase of Harry running through the great hall. Lockhart sent some stunners at the badger, yet all it did was cause the creature to rampage towards him. At last Snape cast a spell that vanished it.

The disruption was hardly as incredible as the reaction people had of Draco's prowess. Ron was thinking about something else entirely; Harry had hissed at the snake. If there was some student culprit living in the halls of Hogwarts, Harry must have some connexion to the matter. The biggest question that still rested on Ron's mind was how to get him to divulge these matters. The second biggest problem, second by the smallest margin, was how to tell this to Draco without launching an anti-Harry crusade. The joke was on him though, Draco had already started one.


	28. Red Dawn

Herbology had been both Neville's favourite and most dreaded class of last year. There were few subjects he did well at, and yet Draco's behaviour had caused a degree of stress. Not much to his surprise, Ravenclaw made for a much more relaxing classroom environment. Eagles tended to keep to themselves, and the few Gryffindors who were on the more gregarious side caused little friction.

Neville went through the standard procedures after Professor Sprout assigned homework: cleaning any dirt off his workspace and brushing off the pollen from his gloves. On the walk over to lunch, he saw the vacant Quidditch pitch blanketed in snow; being seeker had been a pleasant experience, nothing of what he had imagined. At the end of the day though, all of that glory game was nothing that suited an everyday Longbottom. The petrifications had introduced a new routine to his schedule that involved helping cultivate mandrakes, not as heroic as other jobs but much more important.

Neville had nearly reached the Gryffindor table to find Ron Weasley directly approaching him. "Anything I can do for you?" asked Neville. Hufflepuffs had disrupted life a lot before, yet Ron was a friendlier member of that house. Neville still remained guarded as a rule.

"I'm looking for some polyjuice potion, and none of my friends are good enough to brew one."

"So you're asking the worst of his class? What about Granger?"

"She's terrifying. If you could ask her or anyone else good enough; we have supplies to offer."

The objection was fair enough; Hermione could be scarier than Snape whenever someone was too incompetent in class. "Why should I help?"

"We're doing this for the greater good— er well someone needs to solve this petrification problem."

The answer was odd but so was Ron. Neville had his suspicions on who might be involved, yet cultivating mandrakes was too time consuming to sort anything else out. "I suppose I can see about that. You want me to be quiet about who asked?" Ron nodded. They shook hands albeit awkwardly and Ron returned to the Hufflepuff table.

"What was Ron going on about?" Ginny said after he sat at his usual place across from her. Neville hid a grimace at the idea of hiding information from a friend.

"Typical Ron stuff."

Ginny sighed: "Sometimes I do wish he would think about other things besides Quidditch and chess."

"What about food?"

She grinned. "That's a given first because he's a Hufflepuff and second because he's Ron." The two laughed at returned to eating in his honour. Despite the food being good, Neville mainly spent the rest of lunch eliminating candidates for the job. Seamus was an immediate out; giving him enough ingredients could level the school. Terry had potential, yet he preferred sticking to assigned material for a proper foundation. Even if he wanted to take the job, Neville had no way of feeling confident about the success. That was the extent of the Gryffindors he knew would make it without questions.

Ravenclaw was the go to with Hermione being the first choice. Oddly facing Voldemort sounded easier than asking her. Everyone else was almost as hard to approach, and less difficult than impossible was hardly better. Hufflepuff was a clear no. Hopefully Ron would have asked any he thought capable enough. Slytherin left him with one choice: Harry Potter. As that was the only option Neville felt confident in, he waited until Harry had left his seat. "Want to meet a friend of mine?" he asked Ginny. She gave no nod but rose with him; the two rushed over before Harry was around the corner. "I've got a request for you," Neville said louder than he usually felt comfortable. Harry turned around clearly shocked at the idea of being spoken to by a Gryffindor, yet his face returned to a friendly but neutral expression quite quickly.

"What about?" Harry looked at Ginny, who blushed at his attention.

"A friend of mine would like to have a polyjuice potion; all the ingredients would be supplied, and my friend Ginny would be more than willing to help with it." The Slytherin seemed a bit sheepish.

"Well I do like brewing, but I just don't see how she could, no offence meant, be of much use." Ginny had been practically bursting with excitement. Even Harry could easily see her disappointment. "Sorry, I'm just not that good around girls."

"No, it's my fault," Neville corrected before things got worse. "She loves potions a lot and wanted to learn from you. Ginny's always wanted a friend she could look up to in that subject." Harry looked a bit reluctant, but Gryffindors were famous for being abysmal at potion-making.

"Let's say a tentative yes. Could I talk over some of the details in private with you though?" Neville assented and they moved a discreet distance away from Ginny and the majority of traffic. "You can't tell me who asked?" Harry whispered. Neville nodded. "Okay. I don't want you telling who I am then and need a one pound jar of Murtlap Tentacles as payment." Neville scrawled the demands on a notepad.

"I think that should work." They shook hands. Neville ran back to Ginny, knowing that they both had to be at different classes soon.

"What was that about?" she demanded.

"Here, I'm just trying to do a favour for you. Act naturally around him as a _friend_."

"Fine… and thanks." She scurried to her destination, and Neville strode over to his: Defence. The class proved as useless as ever, an odd comfort to Neville, who felt useless fairly often. As there was a decent break between Defence and Potions, he walked towards the greenhouse to see about using a new fertiliser he had been developing.

"Hi Neville. It's nice weather lately," said a cheerful voice next to him. Neville turned to see Draco Malfoy walking at his side. He nearly jumped at the jarring friendliness. Draco as ever, was odd, holding a hand mirror with which he gazed into affectionately.

"It has been rather nice. Could you tell me why you're looking at that right now?"

Draco gave a warm, condescending smile. "I guess you wouldn't understand quite so well. Even I have to take some time out of the day to look…" Draco was completely still. Neville glanced over his shoulder; a massive beast towered over him with gleaming, yellow eyes.


	29. Interlude: Madness at Malfoy Manor

The bottle of Firewhiskey lay empty. Lucius considered getting another; the past years had been disappointing to him. It all started with the news of his son being sorted into Hufflepuff. It was unprecedented. Granted, Draco was not what Lucius would call a prodigy in manipulation, but what did he do to deserve this? Lucius looked back at his life, full of happy memories. He had risen to his first place of power at Hogwarts, outwitting his peers and gaining the respect and loyalty of only the most competent.

Draco on the other hand had thus so far baked cookies and done gardening. The worst was his son getting petrified, not because he was petrified; Lucius had given up hope during his son's first year. More specifically, it was the note that Draco had written in the case of such an event. Now Draco's comatose body was standing in the middle of a flower garden in the Hogwarts greenhouse smiling at his own reflection. Lucius decided against another drink and rose from his plush chair to pace back and forth. The truth was that this was an opportunity to exploit. He was a father bereft of a son and enraged at the incompetence of the school's security. Never mind the fact that the security had been compromised after he had lost the diary that one day in Diagon Alley.

Still, the inadvertent plot had been effective, poorly aimed but effective. Lucius flooed from his home to the governors meeting, stepping out into the austere room. His head chair felt as comfortable as always, and the governors looked at him expectantly, the perfect image of the authority he wielded. Then he remembered that he was five minutes late to a meeting he had personally scheduled. Lucius let his smile that they had definitely not seen droop; his face became grim.

"Good Sirs and Madams," he opened. As much as he tried, their names never did stick with him (Not that they mattered.). "We all know of the tragedies. Of the victims is a Mud— erm Muggle-born, a cat, and two Pure-bloods. The first Pure-blood is my son, and the second, Neville Longbottom, died at the hand of this horror." Lucius paused to let the weight of his words sink in. "We've already had the castle vacated for Christmas break, but one thing has been left undone: Dumbledore. His negligence is responsible for these tragedies and has proved inadequate." Everyone in the room nodded. "All in favour of removing him as headmaster say aye."

"Aye," all of replied.

"All in favour of having him be the new caretaker say aye," Governor A said.

"Aye."

Lucius frowned, "We've all established his culpability in this, and now you want him in that role?"

"Sorry, I thought that was what you were wanting as well. He is a formidable wizard but quite overburdened. I'm sure with the help of some aurors, the investigation could be productive."

"Very well then," Lucius surrendered. The last thing he wanted was an inquiry, yet he was no idiot.

"Good. I'll inform the Auror office about our request and update Dumbledore and McGonagall about our conclusions," Governor B said.

Lucius' plans had almost entirely fallen apart. Dumbledore would still be at school, and the Aurors could in no way could in no way provide the political leverage that an undercover death eater could. Luckily his mask stayed intact. "With those matters I believe there is much to deliberate about. I suggest another meeting next month once we have more concrete details. Adjourned." Lucius marched to the floo and left, sickened by the results. At least another bottle or two were waiting to be opened.


	30. Interlude: Auror of the Hour

It was an ordinary day at the Auror office; Tonks was walking from the break-room when Moody leaped out from a corner and caught her with a stunner. The ennervate got her back on her feet, but the headache lingered. "You've got to do better!" he barked. "When I was your age, I could hear the beating of a heart through a wall."

"Please tell me you didn't do that to show how clumsy I am."

"There's another purpose."

"But also that."

"I don't see the purpose of talking about that. We've got something important to deal with, and enjoy your time off since starting January 1st, that will be few and far between."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Just got a message from Scrimgeour. We're going to Hogwarts as a security detail." Tonks had no need to ask why. The _Daily Prophet _had been helpful in providing the details surrounding the students victims and the sudden departure of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. "McGonagall has asked me to fill in for the new opening at least for the time being."

The idea of Mad-Eye Moody training youngsters sounded comical to say the least. "In other words you've fallen in love with teaching me that you want to do it for a whole school I see."

"Just show up here after your time off and we'll talk over the details. I really should've retired when I had the chance," her mentor hobbled away grumbling about children. The rest of the day dragged on primarily due to paperwork, and by five she was exhausted. Even the imagined taste of Firewhiskey after work did little to motivate her in getting up. The sound of a jinx whizzing towards her did much more; she was on her feet, then tripping, and at last sprawled on the ground.

"Happy Christmas," said Moody, pleased and amused with her alertness and clumsiness respectively. A flick of his wand brought a festive card flying into her hands. The man chuckled as he walked off. Tonks got to her feet and was out of the Ministry in front of her door in a few snaps of magical transportation. Her fingers fumbled with the keys; Moody had refined her reflexes to much beyond what she had ever dreamed, yet in everyday tasks she felt as if she was even getting worse. Her hair was changing red in frustration when a helping hand reached over, took the appropriate key from the others, and brought it into the lock.

"Thanks," she said to her unexpected help, who stood quite a lot shorter than her for a good reason. Harry was right next to her, perhaps not as unexpected as she should have thought. Tonks groaned, but let him in without a word. She flopped into a chair and opened the Christmas card that had remained in her hand: 

_Enjoy the baby-sitting job I basically have to do for you._

_Regards,_

_Alastor Moody_

Bloody setup.


	31. Burrow Bound

In a hole in the ground there lived a garden gnome. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or eat: it was a garden gnome-hole, and that means comfort. At least it meant that for the gnome until a gruff hand reached into the hole and yanked him out. He tried to reason with the hand: "Gerroff me!" Still the hand insisted on restraining him. His teeth gave an equally compelling argument of a bite. The hand for a moment lowered but then threw the hapless gnome far away from its home.

Ginny's palm ached from the sharp tooth marks, not deep enough to draw blood at least. The culprit flew out of the snow-covered garden and landed on the fringe of the target they had established. Ginny put her mitten back on as she watched George draw another cleverly hidden gnome from the ground. The throw was done in a simple flourish; the gnome thudded just outside the bullseye. Fred's aim was true, earning him applause from all of his siblings aside from Ron.

They came inside after a few rounds to find the person in question scrubbing the kitchen floors. "Look at our Ronniekins, Fred. Looks like he's trying to be the next Head Boy at this rate," George wore a concerned look.

"True indeed. Next thing he'll be Minister of Magic." Ron looked up with a scowl at their sniggering and then returned to work. The pair ran up the stairs probably to work on their next project. Their behaviour puzzled Ginny. Humour was common, yet a physical prank was practically essential to at least some of their jokes. Although they still did subtle ones to Percy and even an occasional one on Ginny, Ron remained untouched throughout break for an unspoken reason. Everyone could see that Ron had changed following the latest petrification despite his insistence that he was perfectly alright.

"I'd just like to say it's a great goal," Percy said to Ron before he cloistered himself away in his room again. `

With the other brothers abroad and her parents away getting groceries, Ginny at last noticed that she was alone with her closest brother for the first time in months. "Want me to help?" she asked.

"No thanks," he answered. His tone had sounded appreciative, but he barely looked up. Sadly these terse replies were about the extent of his conversations with anyone during break.

"Ron, you wouldn't want to talk about that?" Ginny's voice dropped off near the end of the question; she had expected for him to snap at her for this.

Instead he sighed. "I wouldn't. I really wouldn't." As Ginny retreated to her room, her mind went through the past events despite her attempts to block them out. She had been thrilled to be with Harry for once. Then Neville died. What had sounded like the best possible Christmas break at Hogwarts turned into everyone leaving the area while security was still an issue. The rest of break passed by, and the family was back in the car, headed to the Hogwarts Express. Unlike their departure at the beginning of the year, they had to stop return times to fetch their forgotten things.

She entered the train feeling apprehensive. Ginny would have liked to sit in the carriage where Harry was, surrounded by Slytherins, most of them girls. Instead she took the adjacent, unoccupied one. While there were other options, the last thing she wanted to face was the dread that so many members of her house felt. Ron had been kind enough to invite her to spend time with his friends, but Hufflepuff, having suffered the entirety of the petrifications, would have been little better. Her isolation was quite suddenly violated when a blonde Ravenclaw popped in. "Sorry, do I know you?" Ginny ventured.

The Ravenclaw's face gave a rather vapid response. "I suppose you shouldn't have. I'm Luna Lovegood. You like Harry Potter don't you?"

"Um."

"Me too." Luna continued, unperturbed. "I'm actually part of his fan club. He makes such an interesting specimen." Everything Ginny had assumed about this girl fell apart.

"You said 'specimen?'"

"Exactly, so many exotic creatures can be found around him. There's a whole colony of Nargles that swarm his head these days. I've talked to my friend Myrtle about it, yet we can't say what's the cause."

"By Myrtle you mean the ghost?"

"Naturally. She's one of my best friends." Ginny barely stopped herself from sighing. Ginny wished that she could vent to Harry about these happenings, but the chance never came with the carriages to Hogwarts. Instead she got a lecture on Thestrals from Luna. Opportunities were just as bad or worse at the Great Hall; joining the Slytherin table was impossible, and everyone in Gryffindor seemed as grim as she had remembered.

At the head table McGonagall rather than Dumbledore gave a speech. In fact Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. "Students, due to the recent events at Hogwarts, the board of governors have considered it in everyone's interests to remove Professor Dumbledore from the position of headmaster, delegating that to me. He will still be here when his other duties are not too heavy, serving to provide security for us. For similar purpose, we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor following the sudden resignation of our current one. May I introduce Professor Alastor Moody.

Ginny practically gasped at the battle-hardened veteran that rose. The man was an odd sight in many ways; his prosthetic eye however stood out the most. The Auror limped over to the podium and spent the first minute hawkishly staring down the audience. "I've seen some recruits scraped from the bottom of the barrel in the Auror office. So when I say that I see few of you even reaching what they managed, I want it understood," his mouth snapped shut at the stunned student body. "I'm here to teach you how to not die, and for starters, none of you can scuffle around without a teacher. Based on the victims, the most logical thing we're dealing with is a basilisk, and I'd doubt that even some of the finest could survive one. That's all."

The rest of the feast seemed purposeless with a monster on the loose; Ginny returned with the rest of her house back to her dorm. Speaking to Harry now sounded impossible unless she tried something crazy.


	32. DADA Makes One Moody

Class with Lockhart had been peculiar if anything else. Moody made that look trite. Textbooks had been scrapped; seats were out of the classroom, and everyone was put into a rigid series of columns. In any other circumstance this would have been odd to Ron, but the strict demeanour of the new professor made the other format sound impossible. "Now, a person with superior skill attacks you. What do you do?" Moody barked.

"Intimidate him," Theodore Nott said.

"Typical Gryffindor. Unreliable option. No."

"Shield from spells?" Wayne suggested.

"Better thought but not right. Why?" The class fell silent.

Finally a question Ron could answer: "You lose tempo."

"Well said. One point to Hufflepuff. Clarify."

"Shielding gives the initiative to an opponent. If you can't set the pace in a fight, you lose." The fight between Harry and Draco had shown that principle in action.

"Exactly. What would you do then?" Typical luck.

Ron thought a bit longer on this one. "I'd get away from the fight." Moody nodded and paced back to the front of the class.

"This makes for an important point. Half of being a good fighter is knowing when you're beaten and making a run for it. Now I want you work on your dodging, the simplest and most effective defence in most cases." For once Ron could be thankful for his training at the beginning of the year. Dodging was still difficult, but he had stamina for it. Class ended, bringing them back to the Hufflepuff Common Room. The past few class periods had been pleasant distractions from what he had hoped to have recovered from over break; one look at Draco petrified in a garden showed him how little had changed.

Ron had been indirectly responsible for that and Neville's death. He trudged back to the dorms, not sure how to approach the problems. Aurors might prevent more deaths, but solving the mystery of where the Chamber could be found was an entirely different issue. As far as Ron had come to understand, despite some of the greatest wizards searching for it, it had never been openly discovered, and these tragedies had to come to a stop. In spite of the fact that Ron disliked pointing fingers, Harry was the most obvious suspect, and the point that two of Ron's associates had become victims after working on investigating him seemed suspicious as well.

He looked over at Draco's belongings; the ingredients for a Polyjuice potion were still waiting to be used. Ron threw them into his satchel and walked joined the rest of his year in walking to Potions. Without any other easy options for a brewer, Ron knew he had to face the most obvious choice for the job: Hermione Granger. Theoretically this was simple enough. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were together in Potions class this year, but Ron had never had much aptitude for theory unless it involved chess. The first and most straightforward option was to talk before class, something that was viable since she made it a habit of hers to be punctual with every class. Finding her was easy as well; just look for a pile of books in the front row.

Thinking up a viable opening to a conversation was a completely different dimension. Ron took his usual seat while he thought about what to say. There was the classic Hufflepuff greeting of a hug to break the ice. That was an obvious no. He would probably just scare her away. Weather was a classic option. "_Nice weather we're having today."_

_"It's sleeting out."_

_"Well I meant that more in the academic sense. Sleet is a pretty remarkable phenomenon." _ Ron was impressed; usually his hypothetical chats made him sound like an idiot.

_"How so? It's just snow that started to melt as it fell." _Even Hermione in his imagination knew more than he did when it came to even the most elementary subject matters. If he wanted to sound smart, talking about chess was his best option. That was an obvious no. Asking a person if they preferred French or Sicilian Defence in response to a King's Pawn Opening would just alienate the person. Ron had tried before. By his luck Quidditch would work just as poorly.

Ron looked around in the classroom and saw that almost every seat had been taken while he played out these scenarios. Luckily the people she usually sat with had yet to take their seats, and Ron, having lost Draco as a neighbour in class, could at least try to sit with her. The outcome was clear for that. _"Unlike you, I actually care about grades and would prefer to not have to clean my robes from an exploding cauldron." _Ron was not dumb enough to expect anything from that kind of answer, but he was stupid and desperate enough to try all the same. Her death glare reply essentially told what he had expected to hear. At least he could tell himself that he was right all along.

Ron left class with his robes soiled from a cauldron explosion and his pride trampled underfoot. He was barely hungry at the Great Hall, something that disturbed everyone at the table.

"What happened?" Pansy asked in a show of remarkable concern. Most of her time since the tragedy had been her moping around. Ron continued to play with his food, stalling for time. Saying that it was nothing would just make everyone more worried.

"It's just been rough. All of us've lost something, and I feel… helpless," said Ron.

She reached over and brought her arm around him: "Knowing that you'd do whatever you could to change things is enough." Pansy's words were meant to comfort, but instead he felt ashamed of himself. He had practically given up at the smallest resistance when left on his own.

"Thanks Pansy; I needed that." Ron took a few mouthfuls of food and stood up. He feeling more and more nervous with every step that brought him closer to the Ravenclaw table, yet his resolve remained firm. Hermione was intimidating, but there was more at stake then that. His vision narrowed towards his destination, making him practically fall when a passing Gryffindor ran into him. "Sorry, um Ginny?"

"Hi Ron." As glad as he was to talk with his sister, she seemed to be in a hurry. He stepped back to make way for her; she refused to move. Ron hated these indecisive situations.

"Weren't you going somewhere?"

"I was calling out to you, but you kept ignoring me so I got in your way."

"Oh." There was another pause until Ron cleared his throat.

"Yes, well my partner and I can make the potion as long as you get the ingredients to me." The first surprise was her determining that he had contracted the potion, yet he had been careless about hiding his tracks. With an opportunity looming so close, Ron felt his determination to speak with Hermione waver. There had to be a catch.

"Alright. Who's the other person?"

"My… associate wanted anon…ymity since you wished for the same." Ron hated that condition, but what chance did he have with Hermione? None of course.

"Fine. How did you know who wanted it?"

Ginny smiled: "You don't have to be in Ravenclaw to be smart." He surrendered the materials and left both confident and unsettled. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.


	33. The Grass is Always Greener

Sally-Anne could easily blend in a crowd. That was not to say that she lacked distinctive features. Physically she was unremarkable, pretty but not beautiful. A mole on her right cheek was also a notable feature. In personality she tended to be on the quiet side, yet she outwardly demonstrated her passions in two areas: transfiguration and pranks based around that subject. Unlike most Slytherins though, the jokes tended more towards the harmless end like changing the colours of a person's dress to a gaudy rainbow. Those peculiarities aside, Harry knew little else about her, which made him feel strange when, knowing only surface-level things, he could tell immediately identify the Sally-Anne standing in front of him as an imposter.

"You're pretty good. Is that glamour or polyjuice?" Not-Sally-Anne blushed while leaning a bit on her left foot; even the body language was down to a tack. "Come on, let's stop playing this game. Both of us know the truth."

She sighed. "Fine. How did you figure me out?"

The answer was simple: she never tried initiate any form of physical touch. "I was taught by the best." The excuse was valid given the pointers Tonks had given over break, and the last thing Harry wanted a fake to learn was of his misfortunes when it came to girls.

"Oh well." She immediately changed her posture to a livelier one and skipped into the dorms. Harry felt unsettled, choosing to amble over to his favourite spot in the common room, a chair in an unassuming corner. Although the lighting was dim there, it had a number of advantages such as a distinct lack of blind-spots.

"How's it going? Care to join?" Anthony asked from a couch near the fireplace. He was sitting there with Vincent and Blaise playing a game of Exploding Snap.

The offer was considerate, something Harry would have jumped on in his first year. Now his mindset was tainted; they were friendly to him not out of liking him. He had shown himself respectable through Parseltongue, and they wanted him in their circle. "Maybe later. Thanks though." Harry opened his Transfiguration textbook, but the main purpose was to have some time to think. During the time before Christmas Break, other Houses had acted with a degree of suspicion around him. Now they were openly hostile.

He had few choices but to stay in the Slytherin Common Room unless he wanted to start an outright war. A losing war at that. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would be the enemies, and naturally some Slytherins would side with him. The Ravenclaws had yet to take much of a side, meaning that the outnumbered Slytherins would abandon him to a hopeless situation, maybe even betray him. In truth that violent of an outcome was unlikely, yet Harry had learned to trust his paranoid tendencies, leading to the present circumstances.

There were some advantages he did take from the new favours. Staying around guys made girls less likely to attack him, an edge he exploited at every possible instance. All the same he missed a nonexistent concept at Slytherin: genuine friends. His routine still continued albeit with more discretion. Harry joked with the fellows in Slytherin and was cordial with the girls. In the case of Hermione, he was careful to stay reserved but friendly, and he actively avoided members of other houses.

As always though, that routine saw its first interruption during Potions. He had made some of the finishing touches to a Hair-Raising Potion for which Snape gave a reluctant nod of approval. "Mr. Potter, the student you wanted to tutor asked to meet after dinner at six. I took the liberty of approving that."

Harry hated being manipulated, but as the alternative was questioning his favourite professor and the head of his house. "Thank you, Professor." He gave a curt nod and left to supper. Now he was left to wonder who it was. Slytherins had no reason to use Snape as a liaison for that purpose when they could just ask Harry directly. It did however, have that elegant yet unnecessary complexity that many housemates had come to admire. Any other house made little to no sense for that purpose. Ravenclaws had Ravenclaws, and other houses could rely on Ravenclaws in most cases. At any other table, ruminating during a meal would be regarded with suspicion, but as brooding was becoming increasingly fashionable in Slytherin, most simply gave quiet complements on his technique. He could even hear a few older girls saying, 'I wish that my boyfriend could look that grim.'

"The pieces have nearly fallen into place," Harry said in a low voice when he rose. Every girl around him sighed; that was what he got for playing along. He walked away to the doorway of Great Hall in an effort to find some personal space. Tonks was slouched against one side.

"Going somewhere?" she asked. Harry had nearly forgotten that he needed an escort.

"The Potion Dungeon." She fell into place beside him, and they descended to the lower floor. Tonks whistled while they walked in spite of the gloomy decor of the lower levels. "Say Tonks, what do you do besides babysitting us?"

Tonks shrugged. "I like visiting the kitchen from time to time. Her face had a nostalgic look as if she was reliving her Hufflepuff days. "What brings you down to the Dungeons other than 'Slytherin stuff?'"

"Somebody wants to meet me there. I'm expecting a duel." Harry reached into his robes to draw out two vials, both of which he drank before Tonks could stop him.

"What are those for and do they taste good?"

"One is a calming agent and the other sharpens the mind. They're a bit bitter, but I was able to add a strawberry flavour at the cost of a minor side-effect."

"Which is…"

"A mind-numbing headache that shows up an hour after the ingesting the potions." Tonks rolled her eyes. Harry's arm slid nearer to his wand once the dungeon's entrance was in sight. They entered to the sight of unassuming first year Gryffindor girl. Ron's sister if he was not mistaken. His wand clattered to the floor. Tonks just looked between the two of them and made an audible exit as she tripped out of the room. Harry stared at the Weasley. She stared back. "So you wanted help with Potions?" he said.

"What?" she asked. Harry could already tell that between the two of them, they had the best social skills possible.

"Are you wanting to duel then? 'Cause I prefer waiting a bit after meals for that sorta thing." The Weasley was looking angrier.

"You seriously don't remember the polyjuice deal?"

Harry thought for a bit, raking his mind for that vital information. "Oh yeah. That's still on?" _One point to Slytherin for a convincing bluff._

"I've got the ingredients and everything."

"Alright Miss Weasley. We can get to work on that." Harry still could not remember it. Had he been obliviated or was he that forgetful?

"We can be on a first name basis Harry," she was sounding even worse. At least he remembered her name.

"Sure thing Giverna."

"It's Ginevra! Just call me Ginny."

"Ah yes. Ginny is easier." _Why does everything in life exist with the sole purpose of making mine more complicated? _The job was still problematic; Polyjuice was tricky and having a first year around might make brewing it even harder. Normally this kind of added challenge served one purpose: making things more interesting, but Harry's pride as brewer was at stake. He preferred to work on his own outside of class; this time he wanted to ensure success. "Well we can get to work on it after I get our final member here."

"Who's that?" Harry racked his mind for what he had basically used to stall for time. There was one answer.

"Heard of Hermione Granger?" Ginny scowled.


	34. Being Intelligent Smarts

Eight words. That was all it took for Hermione's life to turn upside-down. When she had tried to put some distance between her and Harry, the results had been bad for both throughout the rest of November. December was hardly any better, and her parents could tell it easily enough. When was the last time she burst out in tears while opening presents? During January she felt her wounds slowly healing as friends were quick to offer her support. It was primarily academic, but the emotional weight could be felt. Then Harry changed all that she had worked towards at the beginning of the month.

"I'd like your help with brewing a potion," he said before History of Magic class began. Normally, given what she had committed towards, she would have said no at the outset. This request, however, struck her as odd compared to any other interaction they this year. First, he was asking for help with potions, a subject in which they shared a friendly rivalry. Second, it was wholly unrelated to any coursework, the sole basis of their study times earlier this year.

"I see," Hermione said in a perfectly even tone. The truth was her mind was in turmoil. No longer could any of the international wizarding treaties make any sense. All that her mind could focus on was why for all the times that he had acted despondent about their distance did he choose to ask something now. Their detachment had clearly helped; anyone could see that he was popular in his house. "Why me?" she asked after class.

"Why not? I only have this first year girl to help with it. A Gryffindor at that." A flare of jealousy erupted at that statement that Hermione was quick to bury.

"I'll do it then," was her terse answer. Harry looked surprised, probably having devised an extensive argument for joining.

"Okay. We meet at the Potions Dungeon at six on Fridays."

"That won't work." Harry's face contorted in puzzlement. He really was blind to the issue. "A Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. It sounds like a joke. We'll need a more discreet location."

"Well if you find another area to use, I guess that'd work. Thanks." He gave her a pat on the back and walked away, leaving Hermione blushing. This crush was getting ridiculous, and the time apart had done little to help. She rushed off to Defence to find the classroom completely abandoned. Hermione pulled out her planner; she had arrived hours early. She trudged downstairs to breakfast. _Hormones. _

The rest of the day was typical. Moody had them learning how to fall without causing injuries, something strange to learn from a man who had no shortage of severed limbs. Snape continued to be in a foul mood throughout Potions. None of that solved the problem of finding a viable alternative location. There were plenty of empty classrooms that could be used, yet with an escort it would be conspicuous to use that when the potions dungeon was a much more convenient option. The place had to be abandoned.

That left one confidante to rely on for that purpose: Luna Lovegood. If there was one expert at not being found, it was her, which led to the next dilemma; Luna was an expert at not being found except in the most inconvenient circumstances. Hermione could just walk up to her during a meal; she could also stand up and announce that Nargles were real. Neither sounded like attractive options. She had practically given up when Luna burst into the Common Room on Thursday afternoon holding a net and wearing a pith helmet. Hermione shut her book and closed in before her prey could escape.

"Say Luna, where do you like to spend your free time?"

Luna gave a vapid smile. "Oh there are lots of places. The Astronomy Tower shows lovely trails of flights of Umgubular Slashkilters. I do like telling Myrtle of those sightings."

Myrtle was an odd but recognisable name to any Ravenclaw. Hermione had an answer that had been staring her in the face. Again she was sitting next to Harry in History of Magic. Everything was written on a note that she passed over. It was embarrassing that the paper was pink, but Harry seemed nonchalant enough about it. In return she got a small bag handed to her. Puzzling.

She opened the bag to see what was inside. It had Chocolate Frogs and a small piece of paper with the words 'Happy Valentine's Day' written on it. Of all the things to forget. Still, the fact that he had thought especially of her gave a fuzzy feeling. At breakfast that sensation was dashed to pieces as she saw him passing out similar bags to practically every girl in Slytherin, all the while sitting on seat in front of a mountain of pink letters. At least the Hogwarts had not been garishly decorated.

If things had seemed romantic before, a class with Moody was a definite way to change it. The class was different, and for once seats were available. "Alright. Today we'll talk about one of the most powerful destructive forces known to man: love. More specifically Love Potions. People can say Imperious or an Obliviate can manipulate pretty well, but these have tremendous potency, perhaps even more. Today we'll look at specific potions, their symptoms, and treatments. For starters Amortentia."

While several of the Slytherin girls looked disappointed at the subject matter, Harry's attentiveness in the class could only have been rivalled by his enthusiasm in Potions. _Potions. Maybe a Love Potion has been affecting me this year. _Hermione pushed that hypothesis out of her mind and pushed all of her efforts on note taking until the end of the lecture. "I told the other conspirator. See you at six there," Harry whispered. She nodded and hurried to Potions. After supper was a window of time Hermione used to study, but much of her mind was focussed on what the Polyjuice Potion could be used in the grand scheme of things. Harry had a large target on his back now as the Heir of Slytherin.

The simple fact was that the potion and the mystery of the Chamber seemed completely unrelated. Hermione sighed; none of this made any sense. She stalked off to the Bathroom for the meeting. Luckily Myrtle was in a reclusive mood, allowing Hermione a space of time to think in peace. The Gryffindor girl Harry had mentioned came in next. "You're Ginevra Weasley right?"

"Yes, but Ginny's fine." The two then stood by each other and waited. What could Hermione say? 'I'm sorry about Neville?' That was basically a dead end. Anything else could sound insensitive without mentioning him. Harry came in at last.

"You know, this might be a good choice in some ways, but it's basically the worst for me. Dumbledore asks where I'm going, and I say the bathroom. 'Why that way?' he asks. 'Well it's abandoned.' I say. He doesn't seem to buy it so I come up with other excuses like I'm looking to stay away from girls. They'd never look there. Then he just smiles at me." Harry calmed considerably after that rant, and they commenced setting up for brewing the potion.

"Say, is this either of yours?" Ginny asked, holding up an unassuming black diary. The particularly rude book.

"Let me see that," Hermione grabbed it and hurled it on the ground. "Bombarda."


	35. What a Hufflepuff Finds

Just because Harry acted suspiciously meant next to nothing. Compared to any other Slytherin he was fairly mundane aside from the hissing. Sadly with no Polyjuice, that line of inquiry was impossible. Instead Ron trudged through the snow, missing the warmth of the fireplace and a soothing cup of tea. He glanced at his feet several times during his trek, but the Snowshoe Charm, as it was called, remained effective, distributing his weight to a larger surface area. The advantage was simple: he could walk on snow without sinking in it.

"It's pretty unusual to learn," Gabriel Trumin, a Hufflepuff prefect, had pointed out. "For one it's tricky, and by that point most have learned apparation." The spell did take two weeks of practice to work out, but in the end it was worthwhile. Ron glanced behind him again; no one was following. He stuffed his worn mittens into his armpits in frustration; all this sneaking about was making him paranoid. At last Hagrid's hut could be seen past the hill. Ron rapped on the door to find Hagrid open it with one arm. The Half-Giant's other arm cradled a creature with oddly feline features.

"What brings yeh here these days?" It was hard to tell what emotional basis that question came from.

"I had a few questions I thought you could answer."

"Well for starters, I didn't do it, and that spider did nothin' either." _Spider?_

"I was more wondering about something else." Hagrid's face immediately lifted at that.

"Then don't be standin out there. I'll have a cuppa tea for yeh in a minute." The man stomped over to a kettle to fill a massive mug that he handed Ron along with some crude biscuits. Neither tasted good, but the feeling of hospitality was. Ron took a long sip; the hospitality was not good enough to accommodate the bad taste.

"So I was wondering what you knew about basilisks."

"Basilisks," Hagrid rumbled. "They're fatal teh direct sight. That was the givaway fer us when the Malfoy boy was petrified but Neville… died." The Half-giant began sobbing for a few solid minutes before he could collect himself. "I'd tell yeh the weakness, but there's no reason."

"But there's no reason to not," Ron added.

The Half-Giant sighed: "Only fair. It's true that any creature's petrified that looks in its eyes, but the crowin' of a rooster will kill it. All of them died this year. Moody even got replacements that died as well." Again Hagrid was in tears. At least this was an emotion that Ron had dealt with.

"Here, you can have my biscuits. You seem to need them more than me." Hagrid's large hand took one with definite gratitude and proceeded to dab his eyes with it.

"I s'pose that there's one other creature I didn't mention that acts odd around them. Spiders. Large like the ones in the forest." Ron gave an involuntary shiver at the last statement. The rest of the time was mainly spent exchanging pleasantries as Ron did hate just using a person for his own means. Regrettably that was exactly what he had done. His walk back left him tired. Getting roosters would be the obvious first step to dealing with this matter, but there were clear issues. It had been tried before and had failed, and carrying around a rooster was fairly impractical thing to do all day.

If Draco was around, getting them would have been easy with the money he had, yet with any other friend Ron had nowhere near that level of comfort to ask for money. Ron opened the door he had used to exit Hogwarts Castle. "Intruder!" Peeves shouted and dashed away before Ron could register what happened. The wizened face of Dumbledore came into view around the corner a second later.

"Mr. Weasley I presume. We can't have you walking about this way." Ron walked alongside the former headmaster; their path was unusual, consisting mainly of a labyrinth of tunnels Ron had never seen. "I hope Hagrid's doing well these days."

"He is. Rather lonely but…"

"How did I know? My job is to keep watch." How much did the man see? "Would you care for a lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked.

"I…"

"Just joking. These are far too delicious to share," his mentor chuckled and tossed a candy into his mouth. Now Ron had no idea what to think of him.

"Sir, are you going to give me detention in the Forbidden Forest like I got a while ago?"

Dumbledore stroked his long beard. "No, I don't think so. That place is dangerous, especially for someone looking for danger. And goodnight Mr. Weasley." They were already at the Hufflepuff Common Room Entrance. Ron entered with a resolution in mind: he would see what spiders could be found there. He spent a few days following his regular schedule to avoid suspicion, and at last he crawled out of bed this time early in the morning. His shoes and coat were neatly in place to slip on. The distance between the dorm room and the Common Room's exit was small, yet when stealth was a priority, it stretched much longer.

"What are you doing?" he heard a voice behind him say the moment he reached for the doorknob. Behind him was Pansy.

"I was…" his mind thought of excuses, but none seemed possible to say. "How did you know I was here?"

She looked at her feet ashamed. "It was actually Susan, Hannah, and I. You've been tense ever since break; we just wanted to keep you safe."

Ron groaned in frustration, yet the truth was that he dreaded the idea of looking for spiders. "I guess you're right. Sorry for worrying you." They exchanged hugs and went back to each other's respective dorms as one new realisation had come to Ron. He was useless on his own.


	36. Stirring Up the Pot

The book had remained intact to the disappointment of Hermione, who looked like she wanted to burn it with her eyes. "Milton said, 'He who destroys a good book kills reason itself.' I would've thought you of all people would know that," Harry quipped.

Hermione was not amused. "First, I didn't manage to destroy it, despite my best efforts, and second, it called me a Mudblood." Harry saw that Ginny was just as dumbfounded as him.

"It called you something?"

"Quite rudely at that." There was only one thing to do. Harry picked it up and pocketed it; he had a new friend for the weekend. Hermione tried giving her typical arguments for not doing this, but Harry was adamant. The meeting adjourned with little progress on potion brewing, but there were better things to do. Harry made no effort to hide what he had acquired when he passed through the Slytherin Common Room; it was just an unassuming black book after all. He sat on his bed with the book sitting in front of him. There were endless possibilities. Harry took his quill and began to write: 'What's your name?'

'What's yours?' the book responded. An attitude was something Harry could deal with.

'First tell yours.'

'Fine. Tom Riddle. What's your name?' Of course his actual name would never do.

'I'm Voldemort.'

'No you're not.'

'How do you know?'

'Because you would know who and what I am if you were.' The penmanship was getting more erratic.

'How do you know that I don't know what you are? You're a book that thinks it's person.' Harry had expected the argument to continue; what he had not thought was to be pulled into a vision. In front of him was a rather comely looking Slytherin; Harry had an instant to look at him before he was pulled back onto his bed.

'Now you can't say I'm not just a book.'

'Yes well obviously you're not just a book. You're a magical book. It's a common thing for magical books to think that they're the real deal. Quite a difficulty for librarians.' Harry shut the book for the night. In the morning it had disappeared, a sad loss but a small one at that. There were other priorities such as homework to finish during the weekend. Monday came sooner than he would have liked, bringing him back into History of Magic alongside Hermione. Compared to a few weeks ago, Hermione acted like a recluse, sticking to her _Hogwarts: A History_ book.

In fact she was so engrossed in it that Harry had to nudge her to pay attention to the class, eliciting an quiet yet audible 'eep' from her. She at least tried to keep up with Moody's drills, which she never was much good at to begin with. Now she looked even worse. Worryingly as well, Harry had seen none of her during mealtimes until some of her housemates practically dragged her from what was undoubtedly the library. On Tuesday he saw none of her up to when supper was taking place; Hermione burst into the room in a panic. "The Grey Lady's petrified!" she cried and then collapsed on the floor.

Harry rushed after Flitwick, McGonagall, and Moody, who were escorting her to the infirmary, yet he and all the other students who followed were barred from entering. The doors opened to McGonagall exiting. "Miss Granger has experienced some trauma from the experience of escaping the basilisk, but she should be back in classes tomorrow."

True to the professor's word, Hermione was back in class the next morning later than usual and looking more haggard. "Hi Harry," she said and gave a hug. Stunned was an understatement; the Headmistress had implied that Hermione had walked away from a fight with a basilisk physically unscathed. Now he knew that it was true aside from her psychological trauma. It was clear from her emotional dependence on him of all people. DADA showed her clumsiness at an all time low, and on Friday it was no better.

Relationship drama he could deal with…, or at least ignore. The more troubling news came during dinner on Wednesday when McGonagall addressed the student body. "We have attempted to increase security to our maximum capacity; clearly that is not enough, and while Miss Granger performed commendably against the monster, it shows a carelessness I do not wish to see again. If any teacher or staff member sees a student walking unescorted, they will lose fifty house points and receive a month's detention.

As a result Harry ducked under his invisibility cloak to avoid detection the moment he slipped out of the Slytherin dorms. A cloak of this sort would do the job of hiding him, but it was just as much a closely kept secret that he would never reveal to anyone. It was this conundrum that led him to Dumbledore's former office. "Sherbet Lemon," he whispered. Nothing. "Bonbon, black liquorice, blueberry truffle." None of them worked. _Here goes nothing. _"Alohomora." The door cracked open.

There the Sorting Hat rested in the same spot. Harry slipped it onto his head, a conspicuous but functional disguise. Next came his disillusionment charm that rendered him translucent aside from his left foot. Harry muttered under his breath about his He crept back into the hall and found it empty, like the rest of the passageways that led to the bathroom. Initially he was upset that his work would go unnoticed; then a mirror showed how stupid he looked. Harry walked into the girls bathroom feeling more embarrassed than he could ever remember.

Ginny was already there, distractedly muttering to herself even when he stood directly in front of her. The spell wore off the instant Harry stopped concentrating on it, causing her to cry at a person teleporting. "Hello," he said while removing the silly hat. It took a moment but only a moment for her to register who he was.

"Oh hi, Harry." Again there was an awkward pause between them; it was tradition after all.

"How did you get here?"

"Auror Tonks was kind enough to help." Again came their sacred pause which was rudely interrupted by Hermione's stumbling into the room hefting a large number number of books.

"Hello. Sorry I'm late." Harry looked at her. It was rare for Hermione to go to great lengths on looks, but her robes were always neat aside from a select few circumstances. Given how scatterbrained she had been acting the past week, Harry still surprised himself by not trusting her to be able to brew a potion at this point and time.

"Say, Hermione do you mind sharing some of your research?" Hermione stared back at him with a blank look. "You know. The stuff you've been working on outside of course work."

"Ah yes that." She dove into her satchel, taking a few minutes to remove a piece of paper and look it over. "As far as I've seen, Myrtle Warren was the victim of the previous opening of the Chamber and haunts this very place, which would make us conclude that the entrance is in this very bathroom. Also the people petrified all seem to show the basilisk coming from this location." Harry weighed the argument. There were few holes, but the data was too tiny to make a definite conclusion.

"So what's the point of that?"

"Well we could test it. Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth. All that we need to do is see if it reacts to your talking that way."

Now Harry was puzzled. "Just because I'm one of the hundreds of people here who can talk to snakes doesn't mean that there's much of a point. There'd be a password to it or a riddle. It's not as if when I'd just say _open _in my snake voice it would open?" To everyone's amazement, even Hermione's, the sinks and plumbing moved to reveal an pipe large enough for a man to jump through. Harry stared down the hole, considering what to do next when he heard the zap of a stunner behind him. His honed instincts took control as he ducked, whipped around, drew his wand, and cast a stupify at Hermione. Moody had done more for him in a few months than either of the previous professors.

He removed the wand from her hand before casting ennervate. "I'm assuming that you wanted to stop me from going down there and getting killed. Sorry to disappoint, but I plan to do just that aside from that last point. You don't have to follow." Harry pocketed the wand and turned to Ginny. "Are you in?"


	37. Mysteries Can Be Such a Drain

Ginny hardly considered Harry's offer. "Yes." She peered into the entrance that continued down till there was only darkness.

"Any volunteers for who goes first?" Harry asked. Ginny thought through her nagging worries. This was her chance to prove her worth as a friend and a Gryffindor. She opened her mouth only to be interrupted by someone behind her.

"Don't try making my sister do it, Potter," Ron spat out. A jinx flew towards Harry but bounced off a well-timed shield spell. Harry returned fire with a stunner that Ron dodged. As this could take all day, Ginny ran over to wedge herself between them.

"Stop this or I'll jump down myself." The spell casting subsided. Ron still looked guarded, but Harry had already lowered his wand

"I suppose it doesn't matter. I was going to jump down first anyways." Harry pointed out. Before anyone could say anything, he put on the hat he had worn into the bathroom and entered the hole. It was silent for a minute. "I'm alright," said a small voice. "The slide was actually pretty fun." Hermione looked relieved, unlike Ron, who now had his wand levelled at her.

"Come on, we can get to some agreement here," Ginny pleaded. Ron stayed still for a bit before his arm dropped.

"Okay. I'll go next. Hermione follows and you come last unless I tell you it's not safe." Ron looked at the abyss then turned away. A few breaths steeled him, and he plunged down. Hermione gingerly stepped in right after him, and last of all came Ginny. Harry had been right about how enjoyable the ride down was; he had just not bothered to mention that it was wet and smelly. Ginny plugged her nose before she might recognise the source. The winding at last stopped, letting her hurtle onto the damp cave floor. The other three were already on their feet with light emitting from their wands; at their feet was another sight. Ginny nearly shrieked at the sight of hundreds of small skeletons littering the way. The rest of the way was her practically hiding behind Harry, much to Ron's evident dismay.

They reached a large door decorated with snakes that Harry hissed at, letting it open into a yet a larger room where a lone cloaked figure lay on the ground. When Ginny looked a bit more closely, she could see another person emerging from the shadows. "Hi, book," Harry said.

"For the last time it's Tom Riddle!" the person snapped.

"Ah yes, I'd like to introduce my friend Tom the book."

"Wait, it was you, Harry Potter, all along," the increasingly less mysterious person declared. Everyone stared at Harry: Ron in righteous anger and Hermione in puzzlement. Ginny was now of all times beginning to realise that she had never truly known the person she had feelings for.

"And I guess that makes you, a book, the Heir of Slytherin. Wizarding succession laws are probably a mess to do that."

The person, now revealed to be a suave yet irate Slytherin, was stomping towards Harry in the most dignified manner possible, which hardly counted for anything. The teenager breathed to regain his composure. "If you stop calling me a book, I'll politely explain my plan to kill you before doing it. Fair?"

"I mean you'll probably tell me anyways, but I guess that's fair enough." The two shook hands, an action that would have looked stately if Harry had the sense to take off his shabby hat. Tom walked over to the prone form; the cloak opened, revealing a first year Slytherin girl.

"Know who this is?" Tom exclaimed with a sinister grin. Harry shook his head. "Wait, you seriously don't even know the her name? Anything?"

"Well I mean I've seen her before but never've caught the name. That goes badly with most girls." Harry shivered. Tom started to grimace but stopped himself.

"This young girl;" Tom said with a flourish of his hand; "is Morag McDougal. She happened upon me after some rude Mudblood tossed me out a window." Harry stifled a laugh; Hermione continued to glare. "I made myself an invaluable friend to her since she was in constant need of advice with her love-life. What struck me was the target of her affections, a Harry Potter, the boy who killed Voldemort himself. Two objectives became apparent: bring Harry closer to Morag and the Chamber. The first two petrifications were done to place suspicion on you, eliminating your inter-house contacts. The next was to create a fan-club, a way to give her room to interact with you without as substantial of competition. All of this worked, but she still failed to approach you. Though your Mudblood friend was a bit harder to dislodge, a talk with Morag showed the merits of a healthy distance. Then came Ginny. Those secret meetings wouldn't do. The middle man had to be taken care of. Such a shame that it got so messy." Fury coursed through Ginny, but she refused to cave to her emotions. "I finally gave up when I understood that Morag preferred to simply stalk you from afar but never actually directly interact. I had her toss me away in the bathroom you used, which resulted in me falling into the hands of you. That got me nowhere after Morag got me back. At last I saw that I'd have to rely on the Mudblood. Her time with me had been short, yet enough for me to give a her a gentle nudge to start researching something that had been on her mind already. Odd that the last idea, even with the complication, worked the best of all of them." Everyone was awestruck by what Tom had said, who stood there yawning. "Well I'm sure there are plenty of questions to ask. I'd say I've done enough though." He proceeded to hiss.

"Turn around," Harry ordered at what was clearly a call for the basilisk. He ran over to Ginny and placed the hat in her hands. "The Sword of Gryffindor can be pulled from it." Hermione was busy as well, conjuring an earthen wall around them. Ron, on the other hand, cowered at the sound of the serpent approaching. Harry was desperately hissing at it, yet it seemed ineffectual. The massive head crashed into the barrier. Harry grabbed her hand and ran. Hermione's steps could be heard going the opposite way, and Ron's were lost in the chaos. Thunder erupted from Hermione's direction, making the basilisk give a violent shriek, but Ginny could still hear the creature's rumbling body heading in their direction. Harry tried to direct a spell behind him, which only let off some weak sparks. A colonnade was just a few more steps away from them; at the same time the hissing was getting louder. Another blast shook the head away, also letting out a concussive wave that knocked them to the ground.

They were on their feet in an instant and scrambled behind a pillar. They both were panting but alive, and to Ginny's surprise, she was having fun. The basilisk roared and lunged in the opposite direction. Ginny wiped off some sweat that had beaded on her forehead with her hand, the hand that had until now been holding the hat. She peered around the pillar to only get pulled away. "What are you thinking?" Harry whispered.

"The hat." Ginny showed her empty hands to further accentuate her point.

"Stay here." In other cases Ginny might have argued that point. The truth was that she had been dead weight to them. Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. He sprinted in the direction they had come. Ginny knew that looking was a death wish, yet her head peaked around since the basilisk was roaring away from the other side of the room. Harry had reached the hat; the moment he grabbed it a shiny object fell out. _The sword! _Harry picked it up and stared at the object in wonder. How it had appeared for him was a mystery. Ginny could only hope that he would come back. The sword vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Ginny stopped from screaming; Harry was petrified.


	38. A Sight for Sore Eyes

_Bloody hell. _Debris was flying everywhere, and Ron missed his tea more than ever. Tea, though important, was perhaps the least of his concerns in the firefight. Despite having her eyes shut, Hermione managed quite well in tracking the target's location and used brute force to compensate for her poor accuracy. In the meantime Harry and Ginny were running for their lives. Ron considered himself then, curled in the foetal position. _I'm a useless coward. _At the same time his forte was strategy. _I've done a great job there too_. Not a single part of him had anticipated a fight, and now in the midst of one, formulating any strategy was out of the question. Ron saw Harry racing to grab the Sorting Hat; that was a proper wizard, a wizard Ron had doubted all year.

Ron crawled back; this was a fight for competent people, not him. Harry in contrast stood with his back to the serpent and held a sword. His stance was firm and unyielding, like a statue. The weapon disappeared, and Ron saw the unmoving truth. Ron's body practically lurched forward on its own, standing and then running to where Harry was. Why he did it was beyond him. Ron could hardly even say what he was doing.

His eyes were shut the entire way, causing him to slam into the rigid form of Harry. Ron fell to the ground yet refused to waste time. The hat was lying around somewhere, and the basilisk was fast approaching. His hands at last found the ragged cap. _What do I do now? _The thing that came to mind was stupid, but stupid was all he had been doing the moment he entered the Chamber. Ron put the hat on his head and felt a metallic object bounce off his head and onto the ground. He felt around for it, grabbing it by the blade. The creature loomed closer, making Ron rush to change the grip to the hilt. He swung it around, feeling and probably looking like an idiot. The noise stopped. He continued swinging.

"Ron, you can stop now," he heard Ginny say. His exhausted arms went limp, and his eyes warily opened. The basilisk was directly in front of him, poised to strike. It remained motionless. Ron saw his hand, still clenching the sword; based on his grip he must have been trying to hit with the flat of the blade.

The sword had hit nothing, but the monster remained still despite that. None of it made sense. "What happened?"

"It saw its reflection in the blade and was petrified I guess," Hermione propositioned. _That was anticlimactic. _As a final precaution she sent another bludgeoning hex at the head, ensuring that its petrified eyes would do nothing. The exhaustion that Ron had ignored flooded in, and sitting down to a cup of tea felt like the only thing to do.

"Come on," Ginny urged. "We've got to go get these up to be treated." The idea of crawling out the way they had come was hardly improving Ron's mood.

"That shouldn't be necessary. Periculum Maxima," Hermione incanted, her wand directed upwards. A spark flew up and through the stone ceiling. Dumbledore appeared moments later from a ring of fire, gripping the talons of a phoenix.

"Well it looks like you've done my work quite nicely. Job well done," Dumbledore said with that typical twinkle in his eye. The rest of the events in the Chamber passed like clockwork. Hermione related the events with surgical precision, the people and the dark artefact were gathered, and they all disappeared in flames. Next thing Ron saw was the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey treated his cuts and bruises and sent him off.

Circumstances would normally give him cues as to what to do next: search for answers, see why all these happenings had taken place, the list continued. None sounded right; for the first time outside a firefight Ron felt lost with what to do next. His deductions had failed him, and his one triumph had been the result of an impulse. As much as Ron hated to admit it, his attempts at strategy had done more to harm than help. He sank into a chair in the Hufflepuff Common Room. Apologies were in order to those who he could still talk to.

"That's alright," Ginny said when he approached her in the courtyard. "You've got your flaws, but so does everyone else. It's the reason behind what you do that matters. Anyways, you were right to worry for me. I was basically useless." Ron felt better at hearing that. Finding Harry was impossible given his state; Ron had thought that Hermione would be challenging to talk to, but the reality even more so when she was absent from every class.

He was stirring a cauldron when Snape, instead of giving his typical scathing remarks, spoke to him in a low voice: "The Headmistress wants to speak with you after class." He reached the door feeling nervous; Snape had never mentioned a password. Instead he knocked. The door opened, showing McGonagall sitting behind the desk.

"Come in, Mr. Weasley." He did, careful to breath in all that surrounded him. Little had changed in the place; that which had was generally caused by the removal of unnecessary finery. She waited until he sat in the chair across from her to continue. "I think that we can confidently say that what you did in the Chamber may have indeed saved a few lives despite ignoring a few key rules. That said, I'd like to hear your account of the events."

Ron gulped. "I see. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate a few answers myself first. Is that alright?"

"Given what you've gone through, I think that's completely understandable."

"I've been meaning to thank Hermione for basically saving my life down there. Could you say where she is?"

"I suppose I could. Miss Granger is in the infirmary." More questions raced through Ron's mind upon learning that. While she had been in a tough fight, her injuries looked no worse than his based on her bearing after it all. "That doesn't quite explain things does it?" McGonagall said, clearly picking up on his facial expression. "The fact is that Hermione was never with you during your time underground. She had been petrified with the Grey Lady. The person protecting you was an Auror Cadet who prefers to be called Tonks."

Ron could at most spout out one response to the revelation: "Bloody hell."


	39. Hermione Feels Upbraided

Hermione's eyes fluttered open; one moment she had been taking her research to Harry and in the next she was lying on an infirmary bed. Time could operate in the strangest ways in the magical world. _Speaking of which. _"Did I miss exams? I didn't fail did I?" she demanded from the closest person, who in this case was Madam Pomfrey.

The healer sighed, "It's a lucky thing that Filius pointed out your mental state and told me to get your best friend next to you just in this case." Harry emerged from behind the curtains.

"Hi, sleep well?" His being there seemed all too convenient to be a mere coincidence. In a startling display of coordination, her hand snatched her pillow and sent it directly to his face. Violence could get through a thick-headed person.

"What did you go and get petrified for?" she demanded. If Harry was surprised by her figuring out, his face did nothing to betray it.

"What about you?"

"Come on now. I'm just Hermione. Now you're the Boy Who Lived But Got Petrified by a Snake." She could barely register him whispering 'basilisk actually.'

"Well we missed you during the rest of the adventure. Your doppelgänger was great and all, but you would have had better sense than her." Harry sighed, having enjoyed the whole experience.

"Doppelgänger." Hermione repeated. She had missed out on quite a lot.

"Yeah. Maybe Doppel-Granger would be a better term. Sorry." At least he had the sense to apologise for such a poor joke. "That cadet friend of mine Tonks was assigned to act like you to monitor me. Ended up doing security more than anything else."

"You'd have taken me over Tonks?" Hermione was good at magic, but tense situations never worked well for her.

"Of course. She was great with magic given that she was using your wand, but come to think of it, I just had to use a stunner to convince her to come along with us. You, on the other hand, would have insisted on us getting a teacher to search the area."

"Fair enough." In truth Hermione found herself thinking that she would have just gone with one of Harry's dumb plans. She wanted to know more: how the mystery had played out, how everything fit together, yet Harry's expression stopped her. "If you've got something to say, say it. I don't want a repeat of last year."

Harry raised his face to look at her directly in the eyes. "I guess I should. I used you. I didn't mean to, but it happened. I basically made you into a pawn and threw you into a life-or-death situation. I know it wasn't really you, but I would've done it all the same."

"I volunteered for it. All of us did," she protested.

"That doesn't matter," he practically shouted. "I'm rubbish at making and being friends. I might as well be Tom Riddle in how he manipulated Morag. I'm sorry." Harry turned around to walk away. Normally when giving a physical response to an emotional problem, Hermione acted before she thought it through. This time she knew exactly what to do when she stood up and hugged him. His body, like every time other she touched him felt rigid and discomforted at the contact. She refused to let go, and Harry slowly relaxed, even reciprocating the hug with one hand.

"Your problem is getting caught up in what you and others think you are. You're not Tom; you're Harry, and the Harry I know can be sneaky, but he's also brave, smart, and my best friend." Harry's breathing began to slow at her assurance.

"Thanks. You know, I was an idiot. When you and I were together in the library, I should've put up more of a fight. Giving you up was one of my worst mistakes."

"At least we both can relate to that." They both chuckled then looked at each other, not knowing what to say next after resolving their longest disputes.

"So… I guess I should just say that I need someone like you. I don't trust myself in making the best choices, and I can't think of a better person to steer me in the right direction. Also, stop me before I shove you into the next dangerous place. I've got a bad track record." Her heart practically jumped at what he said, but Harry seemed oblivious to any blush she might have had.

"I think I can manage that. Just don't complain when you're in the library studying instead of adventuring," Hermione said, wearing an uncharacteristically roguish grin.

"Thanks. I guess one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Could we stop hugging?" Hermione saw that Harry's arm had left her back. She pulled away with a start.

"I think I should get back to my bed. I'm still feeling a bit unwell." It was a poor excuse to use; Harry was either too dumb or magnanimous to show it. He waved a stilted goodbye and left. Hermione sighed as she sank into her bed. Just as their friendship seemed firmly established, her crush had to make things awkward. Now all she had to do was return to classes and act as if none of that hug had meant much anything to her.


	40. Ron Magic

Waiting for the day when the mandrakes would be mature filled Ron with anticipation and dread. On one side, Draco's absence had been felt throughout all of Hufflepuff. With Draco petrified, everything in Ron's life was affected, grades, particularly herbology; food; and the times in which he flirted with danger. Draco could be blunt, but his drive was incredible; without him Ron felt alone and a lot dumber.

The prospect of Harry awakening made him feel differently; his opinion of the Slytherin had deteriorated at the onset of the attacks, most of which had been based on hearsay. The intervening month had left plenty of time to think of an appropriate apology, yet nothing felt adequate. Ron had practically suspected Harry of being the next dark lord. When Professor Sprout announced the maturity of the mandrakes for the petrification, Ron had made his choice. Making mends was a priority above anything else.

He arrived later than most people that visited the infirmary. There were a fair number of Hufflepuffs already around Draco's bed, which gave an ample window for Ron to approach Harry, who was uncharacteristically not surrounded by his girl fans. There was, however, a large mound of candy they had undoubtedly given him. "Hi," Ron said.

Harry replied with a 'Hello.' This was where Ron's planning again failed him. Segueing into an apology was going to be awkward above anything else. In the meantime Ron chose to focus his attention towards the untouched candy at Harry's side for two reasons: staring at someone would be creepy and Ron had missed lunch. "You can have some if you'd like," said Harry. The last thing Ron wanted to do was appear rude, and his stomach was vocal about its wants. He picked up a Bertie's Bott's Every Flavour Beans package, let two fall into his hand, and tossed them into his mouth. Sweet would be a poor description; a better one would a combination of roasted beef and mashed potatoes since it was just that.

"Why throw in two at once?" Harry asked.

"Probability." Harry gave a quizzical look that demanded further explanation. "See there are about three categories: sweet, not sweet, and disgusting. When you pop in one, there's a three in one chance of getting any one of these. I've done the maths. If you do two at once, the odds of getting something that's disgusting are pretty low based on factorials." Ron threw another pair of beans in his mouth to make a point. The taste was awful enough for him to force them down his throat.

Harry sniggered a bit at Ron's evident dislike. "Sorry, you should have just seen the face you made. Why not try three at once?"

Ron weighed this suggestion a bit before he saw a chance he had been waiting for. "You shouldn't be the one apologising after how I treated you."

"Well you at least weren't as bad as some people," Harry said sheepishly.

"That doesn't excuse it. When McGonagall called me to her office, she gave some house points for what I did, but I can't say I deserved them. There goes fifty points I guess." Harry looked struck at the fact that one of the most competitive Hufflepuffs had turned down that many points. Ron still continued: "A year ago you offered to be friends. I said no to that, which was stupid of me. You're a a great guy as far as snakes go, and even if I can't say we'll get along too well, I'd feel lucky to call you one of my mates." Now the Slytherin looked completely baffled.

"Traitor!" Ron heard a familiar voice from the other side of the room shout. Hufflepuffs, once surrounding Draco's bed, were facing him.

"Should I be here?" Harry asked.

"Doesn't matter. The evidence speaks for itself, siding with the snakes and betraying your best friend," Draco said. Ron might have apologised to that accusation earlier that year; all that he had gone through shed a different light on it.

"And how did I manage that last part? By not being a bigot? Looking beyond what house a person's in?"

"That's not what I meant…" Draco said, clearly not expecting Ron to snap back at him. Ron refused to give him a chance to explain.

"Then what do you mean? You've been dragging the Hufflepuff values through the dirt. What's loyalty and hospitality if we just keep it to ourselves? We're better than that." Ron stormed away feeling no better. He went through his belongings the moment he reached the dorms, finding the prized Nimbus 2001. It handled well and was a dream come true. Now reality had set in. Ron was hardly a natural when it came to Quidditch; the nerves whenever he mounted a broom around any crowd was all the evidence he needed. Months ago he would have rather died than surrender it. Instead Ron put it on Draco's bed with little more than a second thought.

Breakfast, typically one of Ron's three favourite times of day, was a problematic affair now since his usual seat was directly across from Malfoy. As a result Ron spent a few precious moments delaying his taking a seat to see who he could sit next to. At least there was one thing he had to do regardless of the spat. Ron walked over to where Cedric sat, an easy place to find since there was always laughter erupting around the guy's seat.

"Good morning," Ron said to the Quidditch captain.

"What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?" Cedric inquired. Ron felt puzzled by this line of inquiry. "You've never heard of _The Hobbit _I take?"

"No, what does it taste like?"

Cedric answered with a guffaw: "Good one there. What can I do for you?" Ron resisted cursing at not learning about this food; there were more important things.

"I'd just like to submit my resignation from the team. I'm already just a substitute and figured that working on school would be a better use of my time. Is that okay?"

Cedric gave him a measured look. "I think we'll manage without you. If you want back in, feel free to ask me." Ron waved goodbye. As there were no available seats that he could see with people he knew, Ron went over to the Gryffindor table.

"How's my favourite sister?" Ron asked Ginny, who groaned in response. Schoolwork was hard. At least it was hard when one tried to get good marks. Ron found himself alone in the library more often than he would have liked trying to polish up a Potions essay or in the Great Hall reading his History of Magic textbook during breakfast. It was hard enough trying to stay awake in the morning. Sometimes Justin or Hannah would join him, but the fact was that he was burning out. That said, the results spoke for themselves as he began averaging around E's in most classes. In a flash, final exams were just around the corner.


	41. Harry Makes Hiss-tory

Harry barely stopped from retching when he burst out of bed. He had the nightmare again. In it he was petrified, but the worst part was his pose. He was either using the toilet, picking his nose, or making some stupid expression. That said, the result of these dreams was a much better looking demeanour during the daytime. Harry's posture improved, with every facial expression calculated. He found himself smirking; as incompetent as Professor Lockhart had been, his tips on becoming photogenic felt invaluable now.

It was early, giving Harry time to stroll around the castle before breakfast. Usually he slept in a bit, barely having time to eat before rushing off to class. He thought of the classes yesterday; it was a Thursday, meaning Double Potions would be held just before Herbology this morning. The Great Hall was not surprisingly almost entirely empty with a few exceptions. A lone blonde Ravenclaw was standing on a seat while waving a butterfly net. A few Gryffindor first years were shambling over to their meals, awaiting what he could assume was History of Magic. Harry recollected how it was getting up to that class at eight; he would have felt bad for them if his own met later rather than earlier. Amongst them was Ginny, to whom he gave a slight wave. Her face practically bulged when they made eye-contact, and after a few seconds of indecision returned the greeting. It was more of a salute, yet it told more than any other person's hand gesture would have done.

They had barely maintained contact given the lack of any good reason to do so; being in different years and houses did little to help. That sharp movement compared to his own demonstrated that the wonderful chemistry they had established over their times together remained as good ever. Harry sighed; he missed their treasured conversations, which went as smoothly as gravel. Best of all, she never touched him. That gave an idea for his hopes of avoiding physical contact. All he needed was a body-odour charm. Just as suddenly as the inspiration came, reality set in. Some girl would inevitably learn the counter-charm or be stubborn enough to fight through it.

"Hi, Harry," Anthony said, shattering Harry's reverie.

"How's it going?" Harry responded.

"Pretty well. Like the weather?"

"As much as anyone else likes rain." They shared a short laugh, and Anthony took a spot with a one seat buffer. Vincent and Blaise walked in next, sharing the same conversation. Harry grinned at the change following his anticlimactic reveal of not being the Heir of Slytherin. The fellows, while friendly, were now respectfully aloof compared to earlier this year. Now they enjoyed standard small-talk and could share dumb inside jokes instead of talking about their emotional vulnerabilities. The girls, being what they were instead of what they were not, for a few weeks lobbied to make him the heir despite not even knowing what that role entailed. Probably it was all part of some elaborate scheme he had, like most, missed.

Double Potions showed itself to be as wonderful as ever. Snape was quick to point out everyone's mistake, yet it was clear to Harry that he was a favourite student. The majority of the time Snape was hovering around Harry or scowling from a distance. Naturally Snape could not smile at him; that would be an overt display of partiality. As a result Harry and Hermione worked in silence up to the end of class.

In general, as Harry noticed during Transfiguration class, Hermione was conscientious of any touching, even an innocent brush of a hand. Apparently the awkwardness of the hug in the infirmary bothered her too. Afterwards he was back in Potions with Hufflepuffs, where Draco glared back at him every chance he got. It was, however, a nice thing to have Ron on speaking terms with him. The remainder of his time was mainly punctuated by study sessions and Quidditch practice, the former important as both he and Hermione tried to catch up to the material they had missed. After hours of revising, exams came and went with little fanfare besides Hermione's nervousness about them. The end of the year feast was similarly simple, as McGonagall preferred things that way.

With the House Cup Gryffindor came in first, and the runners up were Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin respectively. There was a solemn minute spent remembering Neville, which seemed to have brought tears to McGonagall's eyes. Recognition was given to the heroics of Moody and Tonks, and the feast ended. Before anything else could stop him, Harry rushed over to the headmistress for a simple question he had delayed asking since the beginning of summer. "Professor, my relatives kicked me out, and I don't have anywhere to stay. Do you think that anything could be done?" Harry smiled; the short notice of this matter would give few options. He had personally thought that spending time at Tonks' flat would be fun, but that would hardly work long-term. The Grangers were a fair idea as well, but he hated the idea of imposing on a friend like that when she clearly wanted some degree of personal space. This left the best castle full of potions equipment to stay at as the sole option.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it's better to give more time for making these decisions. As of now there is the thought of having you stay at the castle over the summer," she said, making Harry smile at his ploy working. "But, I think I know a family that would be more than happy to take you in despite this short notice." His smile vanished.


	42. The Error of Slytherin Epilogue

The Hogwarts Express felt surreal to Ginny; she barely talked with her friends, instead thinking about how weird things had gotten. When the year started off, she was sorted into Gryffindor like most every other Weasley, attended classes, and ogled Harry from afar. Midyear changed all of that with her getting the chance to look good in front of her crush. None of that happened as she practically played the damsel in distress the whole time in the chamber. Ginny let out an audible sigh. She was returning to everyday life of being the youngest in her family, adorable yet fragile girl everyone needed to protect.

The train ground to a halt, and she gave her goodbyes to Ellen and Zacharias. Upon her exiting Ginny found her parents, ready to give her a 'welcome home' hug alongside her other siblings. Mum practically cried at their sight, chiding everyone besides Percy for the trouble they got into. George and Fred laughed it off, but Ron was uncharacteristically sorry. In truth it was hard to say what, yet Ron had definitely changed in the past month. They all piled into their Ford Anglia when Ginny noticed an additional passenger. "Hello," Harry said as he sat next to her. Ginny's mind blanked.

* * *

**Thanks for following this work up to this point. I don't know if that says more about me as a writer or you as a reader. Regardless, I'll say that this was significantly harder to adapt than the former book, which almost seemed to have written itself. I'm glad that things came together in as satisfactory manner as they did, something I was seriously doubting that I could achieve midway. Then again I also didn't come into the book thinking that I would be killing off Neville. Like before, I'll be spending a bit of time revising and considering how the next book will work. I can't say when that will happen since I have few plans in mind for how the Prisoner of Azkaban would take shape. More importantly, I haven't thought of an appropriate title with a pun. **

**I'd also like to thank those of you who have taken the time to review this work, giving encouragement and helpful feedback. I like writing and try to hold myself to a high standard regardless of what others think, but having a dedicated readership that has enjoyed my sometimes unorthodox takes on characters has been especially fun. **

**I'm not sure what most of you think, but having characters do dumb things is bothersome to some people. To me, however, this is an essential component of the narrative. One of the greatest mistakes we can make as humans is to underestimate the sheer potential of human stupidity, something I find is essential to our nature. That's all that I've got for now. Thanks again.**


	43. Things Get Sirius

Harry woke up excited; he was going to spend the day at last away from the Weasleys, whose hospitality had been dreadful as much as it had been kind. Perhaps that was a strong term, but his expectations of how he would spend his summer at Hogwarts was vastly different from his time at the Burrow. Saying that it was boring hardly fit. He enjoyed the games of Quidditch that he, the twins, and sometimes even Ginny participated in. They were informal, unstructured affairs that left them both laughing and panting at the ends. Perhaps the oddest thing was the total absence of Ron from any of these scrimmages.

Yesterday they had entered through the door covered in grass and dirt stains to find Ron seated at the table writing some notes on the margins of a worn book. "Hi, Ron. Sure you don't want to join next time?" Ginny asked him and rustled his hair.

"Argh! Don't do that. I could've swallowed," Ron snapped. He looked up to see the hurt on her face. "Oh. Sorry about that Gin. This Transfiguration stuff is just tricky, and I don't like getting distracted."

"That's okay. It's good you've been applying yourself," she said. Harry could tell by the straining of her otherwise reassuring smile that she was lying, yet doing anything for her at this point sounded unwise.

"Tell me if you'd like to play some Wizard Chess sometime," he offered.

Ron's face brightened a lot at that prospect. "I'll see what I can do." Harry returned to his room, eager to enjoy his own company for a bit. Not being allowed to brew potions depressed him, yet being able to write a letter or read a book in peace was a fine alternative to the chaos that happened around him. The twins made fun jokes, and Ginny was like a little sister to him. Mrs. Weasley's cooking continued to impress while Mr. Weasley showed remarkable enthusiasm to anything muggle; Percy was just around. Like it or not though, Ron was the issue everyone avoided mentioning even when he was not around.

The only time Ron opened up would be over a game of Wizard Chess; this was hardly bad, and even in his reclusive moments, Ron could be pleasant company. The issue was how stiff this made everything at mealtime. That said, Harry practically jumped in excitement when Mr. Weasley suggested travelling to Diagon Alley for school supplies. Harry was quick to excuse himself as soon as possible to notify Hermione, and a few hours later got a reply back. She would be there with her mother at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for lunch.

Back in the present, heading over to Diagon Alley, like all trips the Weasleys made as a family, was hectic when they realised that they were going to be late. Come to think about it, it was hectic before then. At last they were packed into the car a full hour after they had planned to leave, reaching their destination dangerously close to lunchtime. "I actually have some plans," said Harry once the Weasleys began to filter into the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley's concern was tangible until he clarified about his commitment, and she waved him goodbye with nearly as little concern as Percy after they agreed to reconvene at two.

"He's always off doing his own thing," Harry heard Ron say as he set out with at a brisk pace through the crowded street. _Speak for yourself. _From the shop entrance he saw Hermione with a book and her mother sitting near a conspicuous corner. He gave a quick wave and headed over, being greeted by a hug from Hermione and another from Mrs. Granger. "Good to see you, Hermione. You too Mrs… I mean Hypatia." Harry said after the physical exchanges. Luckily Hypatia just smiled at his slip.

"Great to see you too, Harry. I've learned so much over break," Hermione practically exclaimed, jumping from her 'light' reading, most of which concerned itself with spellcraft theory. Hermione was beginning to delve into her studies about Wizard Latin linguistics when Hypatia tapped her on the shoulder.

"Have you thought about what to order?" she asked her. Harry scanned his own menu, having not thought much about what to eat for lunch at an ice cream parlour. Last time he was here, his choice had been decidedly typical, but looking at other sections, there was a peculiar lunch section.

…

_Pasty_

_Fish and Chips_

_Cucumber Sandwich_

_… _

The list continued. After searching for something remotely appealing, he selected a flavour that sounded tasty: chutney. Hermione took shepherd's pie while Hypatia ordered raspberry cheesecake. "What?" Hypatia said when her daughter and Harry gave her odd looks. "Nothing savoury looked that great." A hesitant lick showed a degree of logic to that statement; by the look on Hermione's face, she was feeling an equal degree of regret. Somehow they all finished their food, which grew on Harry in both a pleasant and disturbing way, and the three walked out of the shop. "Now I want to see you back at the entrance by two. Have fun. Just not too much," Hypatia told Hermione as she handed a few galleons to her.

The two stood side by side, Hermione just as surprised as Harry at the prospect of being left alone to do the shopping. In fairness, they already knew what they wanted to do and headed over to the first place, Eeylops Owl Emporium. While Hermione searched for a proper post owl, Harry browsed through the snake sections. As he remembered, the serpent he had first spoken to sounded as if it spoke in Spanish, an oddity to decipher.

_"Hello," _he said to a harmless looking garter snake.

_"Oi, one o'those freaks talked to me," _it said to the adjacent terrarium.

_"Address me with the respect I deserve!" _Harry practically shouted, drawing a few looks from surrounding customers.The serpents collectively gasped and looked to venerable cat snake in the corner.

_"The Unscaled God has come," _it announced. _"What would you have us do, Bringer of the Sun?" _Harry considered what orders to give his new worshippers just to be interrupted by an ominous growl behind him.

"Isn't he adorable?" Hermione said; adorable was a strong term for the cat she held in her arms.

"That's not an owl," he replied.

"Of course he isn't. Did you know that this poor cat has been waiting for someone to find him for over a year?" Harry saw its turned ears and glaring eyes.

"I wonder why. Do you think we could use him a test subject for potions?" Hermione swatted at his arm; the cat hissed. An hour later brought them to the Leaky Cauldron burdened with new books, most of them Hermione's, but with the added weight of her new pet, Harry was forced to bear the brunt of them.

"So, Hermione," he asked while they waited for the others to arrive. "Why do your parents have such unique names?" That question had ben gnawing on him since he had met them.

Hermione laughed at his diplomatic wording. "It's a weird story. They changed their names after they married."

"Curious. What were they before?"

"Funny you ask. They were…" The Weasleys and Hypatia walked up to them before she could finish. Harry noticed three things before chaos erupted. Ron was at the front of his family, holding Scabbers. Hermione's cat was ready to pounce Ron, and a large, black dog was at Hypatia's side, growling. First the feline leaped into the air at Ron. The dog did the same albeit later, meaning that when Ron fell from the first tackler, the dog sailed overhead and onto Ginny. Ron was on the ground trying to pull off his attacker. Hermione rushed over to intervene. Behind them the dog was clearly unprepared for its equally unwilling victim, and the two fell to the ground before anyone could stop them. Mrs. Weasley launched a stunner at the dog, and the cat extricated itself from Ron.

The dust settled, and everyone looked shellshocked at what had happened. The dog was practically resting on Ginny thanks to the stunner; Hermione's cat still was trained on Ron. "I'd say Ginny's found a new familiar," Harry said.


	44. Ron is Steamrolled

Ron stepped onto the train in anticipation. Then he saw Draco, the one person he had tried to block out of his memory. The studying had worked, nearly; Ron swallowed, not thinking about what he had done until it was too late. _Another month. _As quickly as the disappointment came, he focussed on meeting up with his actual friends. He had sent a few letters to Susan and Justin during the beginning of summer, and although schoolwork had stopped him from doing any more, Ron was glad to be able to catch up with them.

More than that, he was genuinely excited for the things he would learn. Arithmancy and Divination, both dealing with the future, took such different approaches. The first was frustratingly exact in referring to numerical patterns and referencing theories; the latter was more of an art, finding signs in the oddest places, yet together, Ron felt that the two could be remarkable.

"What's the matter, Weasley? Plotting another betrayal?" Malfoy spat, interrupting Ron's thinking. Ron wanted to shout back; instead he turned around and walked away. Anything he would say could just antagonise Malfoy even more. As there was no question about sitting next to him, Ron searched the carriages for any friends. The first one contained Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, and although joining them was tempting, the prospect of running across the dog that had driven Scabbers away was far worse.

He was much happier at the sight of Susan, Hannah, and Justin in the adjacent carriage. "Hi, guys," he said and sat down at a vacant spot.

"Good to see you! With Draco joining in a bit, it'll be perfect," Justin said and offered a chocolate frog.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, hesitant about accepting the gift.

"Everyone knows about your row. You've got to make up," his friend answered. Ron looked to Susan for help, but she seemed just as convinced.

"I don't know if he'd do that," Ron pointed out. The encounter before had shown little goodwill. Surely Hannah would see reason.

"Here," she said. "I'm sure that there've been faults on both sides, but Draco has said that he'll forgive you if you apologise."

"Apologise," Ron repeated, incredulous. Anger surged through him from all the frustrations and regrets he had experienced this summer. Offending Draco was the least of them. "Sorry, I need to use the loo." It was a poor excuse to use, but Ron had been short of patience recently. Behind him came rushed footsteps. It was Susan, who brushed back a few stray hairs once she caught up.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. Ron opened the door to an empty compartment and led her in.

"I'm not sorry for what I did. Draco's a decent friend, but his obsession with those petty rivalries is delusional," _Ten points to Hufflepuff for vocabulary. _Susan blinked at his statement.

"Maybe that's fair. I've mainly heard Draco's side of things. All the same though, why not be the better man in this?"

"Because as long as I'm friends with Harry, this'll keep on happening. It's better for both of us this way."

Susan's feelings were clearly hurt at this. "I don't want to pick sides."

Deep down, Ron had been afraid of this. "Then just know that I'll accept whatever you choose even if it means losing one of my best mates." Susan gave him a lingering hug and returned to her carriage. Alone again, Ron took a leaf and put it in his mouth, next removing _Numerology and Grammatica _from his bag_, _which he opened to chapter five: "The Fibonacci Sequence and Natural Phenomena." He skimmed through the main points, occasionally looking up to see a passing Hufflepuff. None of them even waved, a clear indication of what his social life would like this year. _At least I don't have to be called The Wizard Who Chessed. _His solitude did leave time for reflection, a blessing and a curse. As Ron was hardly self-reliant, depending on someone outside Hufflepuff was necessary. Slytherin was out of the question; Harry was an outlier there, and even if Ron wanted to befriend snake, they would suspect some sort of plot. Ravenclaw was also problematic given academics was the main hobby among them, it left little room for fun. That left only one option. The train came to a halt, and Ron exited his room to see a few windows frosted over. _I forgot how cold Scotland can get this time of year. _

Most carriages were already full, but one that contained a few Gryffindors had a couple spare spots. "Mind me joining?" he asked.

"Sure," answered boy from his year.

"Thanks. My name's Ron by the way," Ron said after he was seated.

"Good to meet you. I'm Terry and this is Daphne."


	45. Sirius is the New Black

When Ginny decided to join Harry and Hermione in the Hogwarts Express, it was to prevent the taboo topic from being mentioned, not because she still had a crush on him. Of course his roguish grin could be charming, and his sense of humour could make her laugh about as much as she did from the twins. _Maybe I still have a bit of one, _she admitted, taking her seat opposite Harry and Hermione.

Aside from the shabbily dressed man sleeping in the corner, it was just them together in the compartment. The pets were there too, Hedwig content in her cage, Crookshanks curled up on Hermione's lap, and Clarence sprawled on Ginny's lap. The dog, however, was too large to rest entirely on her, which led to his legs spilling onto the floor. They all chuckled at his refined manners. How Molly had conceded into letting her keep him was beyond her.

Silence hung over their conversation. At least some things never changed. "So what are you guys most excited for this year?" asked Ginny.

"Hogsmeade!"

"Classes!" Hermione and Harry looked shocked at the fact that they said the exact opposite of what the other had expected. "I never got my permission form signed," Harry explained. Hermione raised an eyebrow at that demanded further explanation. "It just didn't seem that important. Not to mention I haven't seen my guardians in over a year."

"I'm sure you could ask for an exception," Ginny said, making him squirm just the slightest.

He sighed, always the preamble to a confession: "I'll come straight then. If I go to Hogsmeade, girls will want to go out with me, and that sounds terrifying."

"Girls terrify you?" Hermione said in an even tone that surprised Ginny given how bad she had it last year.

"It's not the same with you," he insisted. "Ginny, you're like a sister to me, and Hermione's my best mate." Although Ginny had more or less gotten over him, that statement bothered her. She made no effort to see the discomfort on Hermione's face. Since this topic clearly unsettling Harry, Ginny took a different tact.

"What electives are you taking then?"

"Runes and Care for Magical Creatures," Harry answered.

"That and everything else." Ginny met Harry's eyes, and they both smiled. "What?"

"You're just being you," he said for lack of a better answer. The rest of the train ride tended toward this kind of banter up to the Dementor attack. Clarence, showing his use as a familiar, cowered in the corner and whined; even Crookshanks at least hissed. Once it had been driven away, the chocolate did help recover from the ordeal, but sadly the chatting they had enjoyed before had completely stopped in the face of the attack.

"What was with those things?" asked Harry. _He just had to ask that._

"You haven't heard about the convict?" Hermione answered, not noticing Ginny's mouthing her to stop. None of this registered with Harry. "Nobody told you?"

Harry shook his head. "Mr. And Mrs. Weasley would sometimes whisper about stuff that I thought was about me, but I never asked about it." If Ginny was not feeling dread, she would have laughed at how poorly her parents performed with clandestine matters.

"Why?" Hermione continued.

"I thought it was the talk, and I got that already from Hestia," said Harry with a shudder.

"Well actually I was talking about something else. Did you hear about Sirius Black?" With the cat out of the bag, Hermione gave a thorough explanation of all of the coverage the _Daily Prophet_ for the rest of the trip to the castle. Just as they entered the castle and started parting ways for the Sorting Ceremony, Hermione turned to Ginny.

"Why didn't you tell him?" the Ravenclaw said in righteous indignation.

Ginny's annoyance was greater than she would like to admit, but she gritted her teeth, holding her temper. "My parents thought it would be better if he didn't know. At first I disagreed, but just look at him." There was Harry near the fringe of his house, interacting enough with his year-mates to avoid female contact but not enough to actually show any of the openness he had revealed to them. "He's paranoid, and his knowing is going to do nothing to help." Hermione's gaze narrowed and she returned to her house table.

Ginny sat down next to her own friends. "Who was that?" Hailey, her roommate, asked.

"Oh, that Ravenclaw was just upset about the housecup last year." A clearing of the throat from the Great Table brought everyone's attention to Professor Snape.

"And now, the sorting. Andrews, Philip." Snape enunciated. The list went on without much interest to Ginny. She and her friends guessed the results, rarely being right. Then again the odds were hardly in their favour to begin with. The more interesting part began when McGonagall approached the lectern.

"Most of you know me as Head of Gryffindor, Deputy Headmistress, and Transfiguration Professor. As of this year, I will be none of those things, having permanently accepted the role of Headmistress." The new staff were then introduced. Professor Lupin from before, Snape as the Deputy Headmaster, Hagrid as Care of Magical Creatures Professor, and Dumbledore as Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor.

"…And now," McGonagall announced, "Let's continue the tradition of singing our school song, but before that, I wish to say that no music magic should be used." Thinking back to her first year, singing had been surprisingly easy to do especially given that she had never heard the song. Now when everyone's mouths opened, the difference was practically excruciating. Different keys, rhythms, and even melodies erupted in hall. Then Ginny remembered a face that contorted in pain whenever her mother began her tone-deaf singing. Looking behind her she could see Harry standing there, the picture of tranquility. His wand was in his hand, but that was it. Unable to bear it anymore, Ginny plugged her ears. Clarence looked inclined to do the same.

The horrifying sound finally jolted to a halt, and the students left the hall, eager for some rest after a long day. "Scabbers!" Ron shouted as Ginny and her fellow Gryffindors were filing up marble staircase. Clarence leaped down the steps, barely missing a few Gryffindors waiting to ascend. Off he bounded in Ron's direction, who screamed in terror.


	46. Monday Madness

Hermione found herself chuckling. Back in her first year, nine classes sounded daunting. Now, even with no Double Potions or Flying, the addition of every elective meant practically no free time. Luckily studying was her sole hobby… or the only one that mattered. Herbology was standard, dumping dragon dung onto the specimens Professor Sprout assigned. She sniffed her robes; the stench lingered after even a few scourgify spells. Despite that inconvenience, Hermione found herself glad to have History of Magic at a different time than usual.

One thing she hardly cared for, however, was trying to reach the Divination classroom. She had been thorough in asking upper years about the location, yet the directions differed given the alternating landscape the castle offered. She did at last find the winding staircase every description had given, but even with the trek was gruelling. Hermione reached the top winded, sweaty, and for once feeling regretful about packing twelve books into her bag. She ascended the ladder into a class in full attendance aside from herself.

"Miss Hermione Granger," the peculiar woman who Hermione could only assume to be Professor Trelawney. "You are late, but since I had a vision that you would, no house points will be taken. I would ask though, that you don't tempt fate again, or the result might be less pleasant." The woman, despite her bizarre appearance, had a voice that was calm and airy, too much for Hermione's taste.

Hermione huffed and sat at the remaining table with an empty seat. Looking across, Ron's red hair stuck out like a sore thumb. _This day is just getting better. _Perhaps what surprised her most, however, was that he was pouring over a book of all things.

"Welcome again, children," Trelawney said. "It's a shame that some people were not more careful when it came to redheads. Today we will be reading from tea leaves based on pages five and six of the textbook. Swill the dregs three times with your left hand before flipping the cup onto your saucer." Hermione's eyebrows raised as she looked at her tea cup. The whole notion seemed as absurd as throwing globs of paint at a canvas and calling it art.

Ron was instead peering over his textbook. "Professor, I can't see where it says to do it three times. Wouldn't seven be more numerologically significant?" Hermione had a hard time thinking of which surprised her more: the fact that Ron had sounded so erudite or that she did not think of that point herself.

Trelawney looked a bit flustered. "I see. That _science _is used more for arithmantic predictions, not something found in this art," she explained. A 'but' nearly escaped Ron's lips, yet he acquiesced. They both waited for their tea leaves; the professor had never quite specified how long they had to for all the particles to settle. Hermione, in a fit of impatience, removed hers and shoved the dish over, Ron shrugging and doing the same.

She stared at shape in front of her. The whole process felt reminiscent of cloud gazing, but this time the clouds were painted by Picasso. "I can make out some canine features," she mumbled. "Maybe a wolf? The line running through it might be some weapon." A quick flip through the glossary identified to common types: spears and swords. "I think it's a spear, which means that pain will come to it by some physical or external force. Maybe the wolf says something about it being someone close to you." The interpretation was mainly guesswork, but she felt a degree of pride in it seemed to come together.

Ron, on the other hand, seemed totally engrossed in his own assignment to pay her any heed. His eyes were fixed on the cup, and one hand squiggled some abstract line work. "This looks like a dragon." She looked at the spiralling figures; there was nothing close to a resemblance of the dragons in the textbook. "A dragon curve," he explained. "It's a fractal." Just as Ron was about to launch into a lecture about the subject, Professor Trelawney swooped in to pick up Ron's teacup.

"Why congratulations Mr. Weasley. Diligence will pay off to great success." Ron and Hermione exchanged puzzled looks. "Look to see the beaver holding an acorn," Trelawney said. Hermione looked at it from every possible angle. The outline looked unlike that no matter which direction she used.

"That prediction sounds more like a fortune cookie," she muttered. The seer next lifted Hermione's dish.

"Dear me. The cross indicates that you will suffer trials. The skull tells of danger in your path, and… oh dear." Everything about this sounded hackneyed.

"What is it?" pressed Ron.

"My dear, she has the Grim." There was no need to wait for an explanation or even bother arguing. She knew what the sign meant and how it looked, and the dregs bore practically no resemblance. She simply picked up her books and left. The whole experience was annoying, simply hearing the woman give her own interpretations without providing a proper hermeneutic. The worst part of the whole matter, though, was that it concerned her. Rumours were that Sirius was already at large in Hogsmeade. Through lunch she chose to study _The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts. _ It covered monsters, much like Lockhart's books did, but in a more systematic fashion that she could appreciate. She closed it, hoping that they would learn at least some proper theory.

Of the teachers, Quirrell had been decent except that his stutter made him frustrating to follow. Lockhart was insightful as long as the subject had nothing to do with the course. Moody treated them more as grunts about to be sent to the front lines of some war, but never gave them solid theory to work with. _Perhaps this time will be different, _she hoped while entering the classroom. The desks were still around at the very least. She removed the textbook from her bag. Probably part of a multi-volume series, it dealt with various creatures, still an interesting topic to explore.

Lisa sat by her, also eager to study the new book. The Gryffindors in contrast had their wands at attention for any chance to hex something or someone. Finally Professor Lupin entered and gave his wand a flourish, revealing a previously hidden wardrobe that shook every few seconds. The instruction to set aside books was disappointing, but Lupin's instruction about the Riddiculus charm was thorough, artful, and even humorous.

The lineup for the boggart left Hermione feeling a degree of dread. Luckily there was good buffer of Gryffindors to serve as test subjects. "Now Theodore," Professor Lupin asked the first student. "What scares you?"

Theodore Nott cleared his throat a bit before answering. "Um, Hagrid. I guess." Those who had gotten to know the gentle giant chuckled a bit at this small secret.

Lupin was clearly a bit surprised himself at that fear. "You have a house elf, right? Imagine Hagrid the size of that without a beard." Nott nodded, and the professor opened the door. The ferocious giant that stomped out was practically nothing like the gameskeeper, taller and wilder.

"Riddiculus!" Nott shouted, turning the titan into a diminutive creature that squeaked instead of roaring. Next came Seamus Finnigan, who saw a banshee; Padma Patil's was a basilisk. Dean Thomas was the first Ravenclaw in line. The boggart changed forms a bit until it turned into Professor Flitwick. Hermione saw nothing distinctive about the small man aside from a piece of parchment in his hand. "A zero is poor score to get on a paper," he said with obvious disappointment.

"Riddiculus," Dean said, yet nothing physically changed about it other than Flitwick now smiling.

"But of course that's not anything like the outstanding grade what you got," said the half-goblin in typical Flitwick joking. Tracey's was practically the same, just with Snape instead of Flitwick. Fay Dunbar's boggart, like other Gryffindors,' was a monster that looked like it had been pulled out of a Lovecraft novel. The spell changed it into a beachball. Hermione felt nervous the moment only distance stood between her and the boggart. McGonagall appeared in front of her with three foot long paper.

"It's quite disheartening to see you only received an A on this." Hermione was caught off by this lettering, but mustering her courage and imagination, casted the spell. "Then again I'm having trouble getting used to Muggle grading letters. Well done." The whole class went through it before the boggart practically exploded into confetti. Professor Lupin dismissed them with the assignment of writing a one foot paper on the creature.

She gathered her materials and marched off to the library, where she could start on homework and prepare for the next day. Midway through an Herbology chapter on Valerian, she was rudely interrupted by a potato thrust into her face. "What?" she asked the offending hand.

"You missed dinner," Harry, letting the potato fall into her lap. Her hands were barely in time to catch it. He flopped into the chair next to her and groaned.

As much as knowing what was bothering him meant, there was a much more pressing matter: "Why a potato?"

He returned with one of those dangerously suave smiles he put to use. "Why not?" The real issue was her best mate practically looking like he was seducing her by offering a potato. Then again she was ravenously hungry; the first bite, though bland, was ample proof of that as she devoured the rest. Harry sighed. "Ugh, I'm going to fail Transfiguration." The comment reminded her of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. _I wonder what Harry's boggart is? _


	47. Sweethearts and Sweets

Looking back, there were a good number of mistakes Harry had made up to this point. The first perhaps was his ignoring the correspondence from his female housemates; he hardly remembered receiving any, but memory was not a fair excuse for incompetence. This alone would have been a minor issue, but combined with doing little other than a wave to any of them en route to Hogwarts was catastrophic.

The predatory look on practically every girl he saw was evidence enough that he had seriously blundered. They were pleasant enough to speak with as they left the opening feast, and Harry was content with playing the fool. Parvati was all smiles, Lavendar was for once subtle about her flirting, and Sally-Anne, while unafraid to touch him, did so in a more chummy than romantic manner. For all of their cleverness, the façade was easy to see through with the subtle tells he had learned from them.

Add to that the fact that someone seemed to be out to kill him, and Harry was in a fairly bad mood when he reached the dorms. He did little other than exchange a few niceties with his friends before turning in, but the concerns continued to churn in his mind. Not the dying part; the whole concept of some death eater wanting to kill him sounded far-fetched. Rather, the girls plotting together and the house elf's promise in the infirmary sounded more disturbing than ever. Worse yet, reliable allies were hard to come by; Slytherins were effective but taciturn, and any other useful person was immediately at a disadvantage without a foothold in the politicking of his house. Finding no solution, Harry fell into a fitful sleep as his concerns continued to plague him even in his sleep.

Breakfast the next morning at last gave him the solution he was looking for when he saw the meek face of Morag across the table. He discreetly dropped a fork, allowing him a minute to scrawl a quick note.

_Meet me at the Slytherin Common Room at 3 this afternoon. _

In going to Herbology, Harry again reached for the floor next to Morag. "You seem to have dropped this," he said. Girls around her giggled at this gesture, probably guessing entirely different objective. Herbology came and went. The subject was something he was moderately good at, given its importance for potion-making, but the primary amusement came in watching the apparent discomfort of his female classmates at moving around heaps of dung.

After a History of Magic class barely worth mentioning aside from the game of Wizard Chess Harry and Ron played in tandem with the class (Every game he lost of course, only devoting half of his attention to it.), he walked into Transfiguration following a brief lunch. Dumbledore was there with a large bowl of toffee. He smiled at Harry, took off his hat, and transfigured it into a rabbit.

Dumbledore immediately took a more authoritative posture when the clock struck 1:00. He gestured towards the blackboard, which listed the five senses. "All of these are important to us since they dictate how we observe the world. Thus so far you have only worked with touch and sight, both useful and difficult, but today's class will introduce a new element: taste. This might seem a bit useless, but not only will it help in other areas, it can also make the spinach you hate turn into chocolate." Dumbledore pensively smiled a bit and then continued. "All of this will help as we work to introduce more complex techniques such as human transfiguration and even animagus forms for those interested." A good number Slytherins and Gryffindors brightened at the last point.

Their assignment in class sounded simple, take a piece of toffee and make it into a lemon drop. Instead, Harry found the class he had managed by the last two years with A's to be difficult beyond his feeble imagination. He got the colour right the first time, yet it took a number of tries to combine that with the proper shape. It was only when he saw Dumbledore already sampling the work of other students that Harry remembered that he had done nothing to replicate the taste or texture.

Reversing his work, Harry focussed solely on the taste, popping the piece in and out of his mouth to sample it, a difficult task as the balance between sweet and sour was far more problematic than he had initially thought. At last he achieved a satisfactory result. By the end of class, every student went up to Dumbledore's desk to present their work, with him judging them based on the aforementioned criteria. Harry, last in line, transfigured his, only to have the it turn into an identical-looking object. Dumbledore was puzzled yet still popped it into his mouth.

"Immaculate flavour. Everything else is wrong. If grading this, I can't say it would get an A." Harry muttered an apology and walked towards the exit. "Harry;" Dumbledore said; "The animagus training might be of use to you if you want to do well."

"Thank you, sir," he mumbled. Potions did a bit to cheer him, but there was the lingering issue still gnawing at the back of his mind. He gave a respectful nod to Professor Snape, who smiled back at him albeit upside-down. He reached the Slytherin Common Room to find the typical people around and a nervous Morag in a corner. He sat in his usual spot, letting her sit opposite him. Wand out, he cast two spells. The first blurred the surroundings a bit, and the second made every noise around them sound distorted.

"Why those?" Morag asked, clearly surprised when the spell affected her voice to a lesser extent as well.

"A little discretion never hurts. Wouldn't want someone hearing or seeing us." Morag gave a hungry grin at the second part. "Lots of people can read lips," Harry clarified.

"So what's the idea then?" While her hopes were down, her interest was evidently still piqued.

"I need intel on what goes on in the club, and you're my best bet."

Her eyes widened in mock shock. "You're asking me to betray my friends? I'd never think of doing that… for free."

He practically sighed at the so-called loyalty Slytherins prized; it had to come to this. "How does going to Hogsmeade next year sound?"

Harry had expected a number of responses to this offer. Laughter was not one of them. "You'd think going just once would do? When you're trying to haggle, you should start with something a bit more reasonable."

"Fine, we go on _dates _twice that year." The compromise sounded bitter, but all Harry needed to do was disappoint her so much that she would never want to go out with him again.

"Shouldn't we start with every Hogsmeade?" Morag asked.

"Every other," he answered. She nodded and they shook hands. Harry could tell from her face that she was hoping for more, but that would only lead to a bad precedent. He dismissed the privacy spells and rose, walking towards the exit of the Slytherin Common Room. When he glanced to his left, he saw Hestia beckoning him. He complied. "How can I help?" he said in a near whisper.

"You were talking with Morag there?"

"I was," Harry replied, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"If you don't mind satisfying a girl's curiosity, what is she to you?"

"Hard to say. What am I to you? I'd say she would have a better idea than me." Hestia's eyes showed a hint of annoyance until amusement masked over it. "Well I do have other business to attend to. Perhaps we could have another game of Wizard Chess for old time's sake," he said and left. Harry let out a breath of relief when he shut the door behind him. He had practically challenged his mentor to a game in which he was horribly outmatched, and the idea was exhilarating.

Then he remembered Transfiguration homework. The essay sounded simple: take the principle taught in first year and combine in with a second year one.

If transformation (t) is directly proportional to concentration (c) and wand power (w) and is indirectly proportional to body weight (a), concentration (c), and viciousness (v), how does the Second Principle Exception of Gamp's Law allow one to deduce where unknown variable can be found in the equation.

Six inches of parchment in, Harry then saw that he had only made a tautological argument in trying to expound on topics he had never fully understood himself. Packing away his materials, Harry left to supper, feeling only a consolation in the fact that no one was trying to kill him this year.


	48. Muddled Muggle Studies

A few rats scampered away when Draco opened the door to Muggle Studies. Aside from the rodents, the room had an odd aesthetic along with a number of peculiar devices Draco could only assume to be Muggle. The class was well populated when it came to Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, giving Draco the chance to have a wide selection of people to sit next to. Of them, Wayne seemed to be the best option. Even as a Half-Blood, he was a proper wizard and more importantly, well-to-do Hufflepuff, a difficult person to find these days.

They exchanged good morning hugs as Draco sat, a clear indication of their continued friendship. Sadly that could not be said for everyone; Justin had practically all but abandoned him. At the least Hufflepuffs of that sort were a minority, and those that were happened to be Mud—Muggle-Borns. Draco shook his head in frustration. Unlike Mud-Blood, it lacked the same ring, not even rhyming.

That, however, was not the purpose of class. It was to learn about Muds… or Muggles. Speaking of which, Professor Burbage entered, wearing clothing that would be described as exotic if Draco was trying to be diplomatic. "Hello class, today and throughout this course we will be learning about how the Wizard world differs from the Muggles. She drew out her wand to tap the blackboard, where the words 'Science and Magic' appeared. "Perhaps these tools would be the best area to start at. Could anyone explain what's meant by the 'Scientific Method?'"

A hand shot up from the front, the student being identifiable by her curly hair and the blue on her robes. Granger dominated the rest of class with her shrill voice, nothing unusual but still painful for both self-confidence and hearing. History of Magic was next, a class in which Ron was nowhere to be seen, not that Draco cared. Rather, the person that irked him the most was Granger yet again, who continued to assert her control over the class by both trying and succeeding at paying attention.

It was Defence Against the Dark Arts in which Draco saw Ron where he had least wanted, fraternising with the enemy. He steeled himself, remembering that Ron was dead to him and instead focussing on the lesson. The whole idea of experiencing a boggart seemed interesting; Slytherins knowing their greatest fears, however, was an unwelcome side-effect. Pansy stood in front to see a Muggle holding a shotgun. The riddikulus jinx struck it, making the weapon turn into a ribbon. Theodore Nott got a dragon, and Hannah saw view of her friends abandoning her.

Then Potter shuffled forward, clearly the nervous coward he was. The boggart started shifting and continued to do so. It stopped, having vanished in thin air until the wardrobe door opened to reveal another wardrobe impossibly far inside. That door opened, and the process looped as Potter was paralysed in fear. Professor Lupin rushed between them, making the boggart change into a ball; his riddikulus whisked it back inside the dresser. Potter collapsed the instant the door latched, leading to a premature end to class.

The whole occurrence seemed weird to Draco. Potter, a person who always came to situations prepared, was bested by a simple creature. Every mistake Draco had made these past few years was obvious now. He had been trying to beat the Slytherin head on; instead he needed precision and a concept that had eluded him for so long: subtlety.

Care of Magical Creatures the next day brought one form of amusement to Draco. For once Granger had not memorised the book cover to cover on account of the biting textbook. That she had tried Malfoy was certain. The tooth marks had left her literally red-handed. Hagrid's instruction to pet the book still left her timid, but as first Potter, then Malfoy, and the rest of the students met success, she did the same.

Though the Half-Giant lacked the authorial mannerisms of Professor Snape, Draco found himself in awe the moment Hagrid led the group of Hippogriffs out for the class to see. Then the man opened his mouth. Unintelligible was the easiest way to describe Hagrid, never differentiating between 'ers' and 'ors.' Context helped, but if he was talking about four fir furs for someone, the problem would be massive. There were a few takeaways he did manage to glean however. Manners in front of these beasts were important; maintain eye-contact and avoid insulting them. What qualified as in insult was beyond Draco was hard to say. He would have asked, but having another way for Granger to lord over his apparent ignorance left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Right — who wants teh go first?" Hagrid asked. It took a massive amount of willpower for Draco to not be slack-jawed. Hagrid just asked if someone like to approach a Class XXX Beast; luckily there were a good number of Gryffindors to act as test subjects.

"I'll do it," Potter answered. Draco shuddered. Sure the Slytherin sounded innocent enough when he said it, but Draco now saw the elaborate play Potter and Granger were playing. One covered Muggle Studies while the other worked with Care of Magical Creatures all in an effort to prevent Draco and by extension Hufflepuff from standing out as the best. The snake climbed over the fence following the gibberish Hagrid had said. He was maintaining constant eye-contact even while bowing.

Then Draco saw the opening. A simple, well-placed stinging hex would be the perfect way to humiliate Potter. He slipped his hand into his robes to find his wand, drawing it out as if he was just adjusting his shirt. Keeping the wand low, Draco muttered the incantation and only dared to show the slightest wand movements. He was nearly done when someone bumped into him; the tip, once impeccably aimed at Harry's rear, shot the hex at Draco's leg.

"Sorry," said the offender. Draco looked to see that it had been Granger. At once he saw how far the Ravenclaw-Slytherin conspiracy ran, how overt it truly was. After class and by extension lunch Draco went back to the Common Room to brew some tea. He resisted letting out an deep laugh, something his father had said would be dramatically inappropriate. If he was going to get at Potter, it would have to be when the Unholy Alliance least expected it.


	49. How to Rune Plans

Babbling's class ended requesting that they parse yet another set of words, much to the frustration of the few Gryffindors who apparently had believed one of the Weasley twins about Ancient Runes being an easy option. Although she was currently top of the class, Hermione could only credit that to having read _Ancient Runes Made Easy _last year. Harry, however, took the challenges in stride.

"What made you want to study this?" she asked as he made for his next class. Harry's sole academic passion had always been Potions and Potions alone.

"There are a lot of potion texts that haven't been translated," Harry explained. _Of course._ "I'm only staying afloat in the class ever since I decided to drop Quidditch, and I'd only do that if it would help my career chances." Hermione wanted to ask more, but with him going to History of Magic, there was no chance. Instead there was a lunch to eat. As per usual, she had her reading prepared given the extensive assignments in Arithmancy. The number of pages in each chapter seemed small, but the difficulty lay in trying to follow the proofs that often referenced 'magical sequences:' various numerical series that made little logical sense as evidence without knowing Wizard culture.

"Fancy a speaking with friend for a change?" said someone who intruded on her solitude. The auburn hair in a ponytail was a dead giveaway.

"Oh Megan, of course. Sorry just been…"

"Taking too many classes? We know." Hermione laughed albeit weakly. Just taking time to think about her time management since the start of the year made it obvious how tired she truly was.

"Sorry," Hermione repeated and stowed away her textbook.

Megan let out a sinister grin. "How about instead of an apology you make it up to us by spending the Hogsmeade trip with some of your friends here rather than hanging out with your boyfriend?"

"I was going to anyways. Harry won't be able to attend any of them," Hermione answered in what she intended to have sound measured but instead came out as an icy tone.

That probably surprised Megan, who usually would assume that anything she suggested would be met with the heaviest of opposition. Perhaps that was because she always caught Hermione in the middle of her writing an essay. "Aren't you going to do something about that?" asked Megan.

"What?"

"It wouldn't mean much if you decided to spend time with us just because your _friend _couldn't make it." Hermione rolled her eyes; the idea Harry and her being more than friends had felt like a dream come true, but the summer allowed some breathing room. Like a dream, the likelihood of being together was absurd with the number of girls around him.

"Fine I guess," she said, wanting this topic to be over. Defence Against the Dark Arts continued the theme of studying monsters, and as per usual, she walked over to the library after class to do homework, soon being joined by Harry after he got out of Potions. Transfiguration and Runes were his primary concern while she made up for it by reviewing every other subject. Still, the lunchtime conversation continued to nag her no matter how hard she tried to use History of Magic date memorisation. "Have you talked to Snape about Hogsmeade?" she at last practically blurted out.

"Why would I talk to Professor Snape about that?" Harry as usual disliked the reputation his Head of House suffered from.

"Well perhaps he could make an exemption."

"You know he hates playing to favourites," Harry answered.

Even Hermione knew that much, but it seemed only fair to ask about him first before approaching a slightly more lenient option. "What about the Headmistress then?"

"Just as unlikely. Anyways, that would be disrespectful to Professor Snape if I went straight to her." Unlike the former, that argument was less sound. McGonagall could be firm, but the moments in Transfiguration when her face practically gleamed when a student (such as Hermione) experienced success, it showed a softer side.

"Why not just ask them both?" she said, refusing to lose this spat.

Harry sighed: "What's in it for me?"

Hermione's mind went through the options available. Whatever she said would be an easy way for him to find an out except for one answer. "What are you wanting?" she asked with an innocent smile.

"Drop a class," he said in an instant.

"Fine," she shot back, shocking both him and her. A week ago she would have refused; now she just needed to figure out which to drop. The whole concept of doing that just so that Harry would see about going to Hogsmeade sounded ridiculous to her, but Hogsmeade sounded incomplete without that insufferable prat walking around there. Saturday arrived like most days, and she along with Megan and Lisa went to the Hogwarts entrance.

As it was the first of the year, people were already queuing up for the carriages, and not much to her surprise, Harry was nowhere to be seen. Megan raised her eyebrows. Hermione just rolled her eyes; although there was a feeling of genuine disappointment, she wanted to simply enjoy her time with or without her best friend.


	50. Permissions and Potions

"I have neither the means nor wish to help you with that. If you want an exemption, you should have gone to Professor McGonagall," Professor Snape said, refusing to turn from his cauldron.

Harry smiled at the fact that his ploy was working. "Thank you, sir. Is that Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Detention at six tomorrow for the cheek. And no, this is a personal variation of my own that has a more potent effect at the cost of a significantly more bitter taste. Out!"

"Thanks again, Professor," Harry replied and left in high spirits. The chance to watch the master at work was a reward in and of itself, and Professor Snape's pride when he talked about his craft even in the face of such a detriment was a show of passion Harry could only dream of. The next day, when most students were scurrying about preparing for a day that could be spent studying potions, Harry was walking over to the Headmistress's office.

Remembering the uselessness of passwords last time, he did a discreet 'Alohomora' charm and stepped inside. The room was uninhabited aside from a tabby cat resting on the desk. Having little else to do, he gave the cat a few gentle pets on the head, moving on to scratch the ears and then the chin. It purred and opened its eyes before recoiling in shock. In a flash she leaped back and transformed into his former Transfiguration professor. Like her Animagus form, McGonagall was surprisingly graceful in her landing on the chair, taking a moment to straighten out her robes, nearly licking her hand.

"Mr. Pott—"

"Professor Mc—" they both started to say at the same time. Harry yielded to her.

"Mr. Potter, my apologies for being inattentive about your arrival. That was not my intention," she said, any embarrassment from his intrusion hidden.

"I'd also like to apologise for petting you and interrupting your cat nap."

An iron glare he had seen directed at the trouble-makers of his house was a clear enough answer. "If you never say that again, yes, I'll accept it. Now what did you come here for?"

Harry pulled out his unsigned permission slip. "Since I haven't been able to contact my relatives, this hasn't been signed," he explained.

McGonagall gave the form a measured look, examining practically every inch. Harry in the meanwhile sat in uncomfortable silence. "I can't have this signed," she declared, much to Harry's relief. "Today that is," she added.

"Sorry?"

"Well your circumstances are unusual; your guardians have all but rejected you, and it it would be unfair to not account for that. To do so, I would need to first consult the Board of Governors for approval. Sirius Black being on the loose could make security a problem unless we take better measures, especially with you walking around."

Harry sighed in relief only at the fact that there was a bureaucracy between him and a signed form. "Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome, but there is one other thing I should mention. Albus told me that you would be interested in furthering your skills in Transfiguration by studying to be an Animagus. You're welcome to stop by my office at two tomorrow."

"Very good," was the answer he gave; it was anything but that. Dumbledore had high standards, yet his kindly disposition could set someone about to get a T grade at ease. Professor McGonagall on the other hand was practically the Wizard equivalent of Margaret Thatcher. Any suggestion she gave was mandatory, meaning that Harry would be an Animagus whether he wanted to or not. At least potion-brewing was a good way to calm nerves.

Harry set up his cauldron in the dungeon to at long last brew the Polyjuice Potion. He frowned at the recipe, which in addition to being complex, had plenty of room for ambiguity. Worse yet, the knotgrass and bicorn would combine into a bitter flavour when put together. Once he was doing the finishing touches to the first step, some rushed footsteps turned his attention away.

"Clarence is missing!" Ginny said between pants.


	51. She Came Out of The Blue

The Dementors glided through the air in a way that unsettled even Gryffindors. For a Hufflepuff standing on his own, to call it worrisome was an understatement. Ron craned his neck see the carriages rolling up to castle, leading to perhaps his most important decision of the day: which would he get on.

On one hand, his calculations had made the fifth carriage the best option for reaching there with no harm done to either him or Scabbers, who securely tucked in his coat pocket. On the other, avoiding tricksters was something a quick tea leaf reading had told him: either that or to not use toothpaste as a shampoo. As the second interpretation sounded unlikely, Ron thought it in his best interest to avoid Ravenclaws and Slytherins since those would be the best candidates for the first reading.

He looked around for any friendly Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors, only to see that most had formed their own cliques. _I never was that good at reading tea leaves without eating a proper biscuit with it anyways._ Ron hurried to the fifth carriage and breathed a sigh of relief that Scabbers was still with him. Keeping his familiar out of sight proved the best means of avoiding Ginny's dog Clarence, but whenever Hermione let Crookshanks loose, it seemed to home in on where Scabbers was kept no matter where Ron placed him.

Ron slumped further into his seat, finally feeling relaxed enough to let his rat out. The creature let out a comfortable yawn, clearly glad to be outside the suffocating environment. "Sorry about that, Scabs," Ron whispered. His solitude was rudely interrupted by a Ravenclaw barging in.

"Ah, this one's empty," she said and tripped on the way in, but if that embarrassed her, there was no indication on her face.

"I'm here," Ron said to the girl, whose vapid expression finally made him recognise her: Luna Lovegood.

"Well, by that I mean no one who matters," she clarified.

Ron groaned as he also remembered the time Ginny told her horror story of sharing the Hogwarts express with her. Then a more pressing concern came to mind: "You're a second year. How did you manage to get here?"

"Filch runs away when I try to talk to him about the Rotfang Conspiracy. I think he might be one from the inner circle."

_And I thought that Hermione was mental. _"So I could report you for this," he mentioned mainly out of hope to change the topic.

"But you're not going to." Luna smiled almost wistfully.

"Why do you figure that?"

"You wouldn't betray a friend," she said. He eyed her appearance, eccentric as it was. Her mannerisms were hardly less peculiar, but his options were narrow enough regardless.

"I'd assume that you wouldn't do that either then, it's good to be friends with you, Luna," Ron said and offered a handshake.

Her dreamy eyes brightened. "I think we'll get along famously then. Could you tell me what your name is though?" Their talking on the way there was best described as asymmetric, alternating between topics such as Quidditch and Heliopaths. How they managed make each segue without it sounding jarring was beyond Ron and probably beyond Luna too. They stepped of the carriage with Ron somewhat concerned about being caught with Luna, in part because he was basically helping a major breach of rules, but mainly since if Draco caught them together, Ron would never live it down.

Blending into crowds was simple enough; walking at a faster pace than usual was a dead giveaway. At the same time he wanted to avoid people catching sight of Luna's colourful attire. To that end, they headed towards people that would not look out of place wearing those colours: Gryffindors. "Hey, mate," Terry said to him as they approached the group. "Who's your girlfriend?"

Ron's mind went into full throttle to think of an elaborate lie. Then again, at least partial truth had a way of working better than most falsehoods: "She never told me."

"Quite the womaniser I see," said Terry with a laugh. Ron joined in, albeit more nervously. They were now in Hogsmeade proper, where Ron looked around to see where to go. His brothers had told him enough to allow him to know the most popular venues. The Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes were both sadly out of the question as was the Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

"Why don't we head over there?" Luna asked, her hand directed at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Ron shuddered at the sheer amount of pink that went into the decor and shook his head. Instead he ducked into a barely occupied store. The open strings of a violin being plucked alerted him as the door swung open. Everywhere were instruments and sheet music. Ron was at a loss for what to look at; instruments tended to have peculiar spellwork to aid their functions such as the self-tuning pegs of cellos and ukuleles, the latter apparently sounding out of tune in any situation for Muggles according to his dad.

Luna raced past him to dig into the music while Ron examined the double reed instruments. Why people bothered with the ones that came with only one reed when these were around was beyond Ron, but music had never been his forte. He took a bassoon and tried to make a sound. All that came out was a rude squawk. Perhaps there was an argument for just one reed. "You should try this ocarina," Luna said to him.

The so-called ocarina looked more like a clamshell than an instrument, something Ron was game to try. His lips were cautious about contacting the mouthpiece given the previous experience, but the pure sound it created sounded wonderful in comparison. Clearly reeds were never meant to be combined with instruments. Ron drew out a handful of sickles, all of his Hogsmeade savings, to purchase it, and the two left for the next destination.

On the way Ron removed the ocarina from his pocket to try again and this time blew much harder. The sound was undeniably shrill, evidenced by Scabbers squeaking as he scurried out of the shirt pocket. Ron dashed after him without a moment of hesitation; his pet was clearly quick, but Ron was gaining on him until the rat skittered into an alley. Although Ron turned as well, an icy patch made him slip. His fall sent him sprawling in pain when a helpful hand got him back on his feet. "Thanks," he said to Luna, and they both raced towards Scabbers.

They nearly burst out when the sound of spellfire stopped them in their tracks. There outside was Sirius Black duelling another wizard. Ron's hand went for his wand.


	52. Rats

There was little time that surprise afforded Ron, but he was able to cast a stinging hex followed by a stunner in quick succession at Sirius Black, the obvious antagonist. Black dodged them while still getting in a spell of his own. Ron flinched as the red jinx approached him, his hand too shaky to make a proper shield. The bolt of magic however was absorbed by Luna's own defence. Black turned his attention to the other wizard to only see that the enemy had vanished. Luna still maintained her weakening shield, yet in the lull Ron noticed something about Black. They would never win a fight against someone this good let alone escape unless his hunch was correct.

"We surrender," Ron announced as he dropped his wand. Luna's fell to the ground shortly afterwards.

"You're serious about that? Surrendering to a convict?"

Ron swallowed. He had nearly blurted out an awful pun. "That spell you casted was Expelliarmus. Not the most lethal thing to use for a felon. By your movements, I'd say we'd be dead if you wanted us that way."

Ron was bracing himself for the reply. The almost maniacal laughter that came out of him. "Either you're an idiot or a genius, probably both. Now if you don't mind me borrowing these, I think I've got a lot to tell you." Sirius summoned both wands with a simple flick of the wrist. Next thing they knew they were following the man to a remote part of town. At every turn Sirius' looks changed; his hair turned from black to blonde, his face smoothened, and his nose became shorter.

By the moment Black had stopped in front of a pub, his appearance was practically unrecognisable aside from height and gender. "We can talk in here," the convict said. The shabby sign read Hogshead, hardly the sort of establishment Ron could expect Percy recommending. Black led them inside the dingy room to a table practically out in the open. Ron scanned the area; the patrons were no better looking than building interior, and sitting in such an exposed place practically made him feel naked. Luna, however, showed no qualms in sitting, which led Ron to do the same.

Their companion returned from the bar with two butterbeers and a firewhiskey in hand. "Don't worry, I cast a cleaning charm on them before the barkeeper filled them," Black said, yet it somehow made Ron feel more unsettled.

"Why sit here?"

"The corners only work if you don't stick out there. With you two that's practically impossible," Black explained.

"I don't follow," said Ron.

"I think he's saying that people don't look for Nargles since they hide out in the open," Luna added.

"I guess that works," Black said and proceeded to explain why he was wrongly accused. At the end of the story, even Luna looked amazed.

"So why did you bother telling us all that?" asked Ron. "It's not like we can be of much help."

Sirius nursed his drink a bit. "When I was in Azkaban, sitting there as punishment for a crime I didn't do, things were… sad. In those years I've wanted to at least tell the truth to someone. I've spent far too long on my own." He finished the rest of his drink with a gulp. "Well, onto the next problem: I doubt that your girlfriend should even be here." Ron almost bashed his head against the table. "Luckily;" Sirius continued; "I know a discreet way back to Hogwarts."

The destination was a decrepit old house Ron would never visit on his own, yet Luna's naive assurances prodded him forward. Oddly the building had no entrance until Sirius used a blasting charm to blast through part of a wall, repairing it once everyone was inside. Granted, aside from the gaping hole Sirius had made, little else could be described as being in good order. Luna and Ron stepped around the clutter of broken furniture and debris until they reached a small hole. "That should lead you to the Whomping Willow. There are enough entrances to take aside from the main entrance if you want to stay out of sight," Sirius said and winked.

"Thanks… and I believe you, I think," Ron said as he and Luna turned to walk through the narrow tunnel, only guided by the light of their lumos spells.

"You think we should tell anyone?" Luna asked. Ron thought of options; few came to mind from Hufflepuff. Gryffindors seemed trustworthy enough, but there seemed to be little purpose to that idea. In Slytherin Harry was probably Ron's closest friend. Even then Ron could tell that he would be of little help, preferring to spend his time brewing potions. Hermione Granger was completely out of the question, and no other Ravenclaw (aside from his companion) seemed to pay him any notice.

"I doubt they'd believe us." Ron shivered at the fact that an animagus had been sleeping with him for the past two years. The two entered Hogwarts and parted with an awkward handshake. As Ron walked inside the Hufflepuff Common Room, his day got exponentially worse as water drenched his robes. "Rats."


End file.
